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AN  ARTIST  IN  CORFU 


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AN   ARTIST   IN   CORFU 

Written  and  Pictured  by  Sophie  ^Atkinson 


^^-«i^^r 


BOSTON 

DANA  ESTES  &  CO. 

208-212  SUMMER  STREET 


LONDON 

HERBERT  &  DANIEL 

95  NEW  BOND  STREET,  W 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Introduction  -------  i 

Foreword        -------  ij 

List  of  Authorities        -        -        -        -        -  IS 

THE  STORY  OF  CORFU 

PART 

i    The  Beginning  of  the  Story         -        -  17 

ii    The  Middle  Ages  -        -        -        -        -  23 

iii    Modern  Corfu        -----  50 

AN  ARTIST  IN  CORFU 

CHAPTER 

i    Spring  in  Corfu      -----  61 

ii    The  Olive  Workers         -        -        -        -  69 

iii    Village  Life  ------  77 

iv    The  Way  to  Town         _        -        -        -  94 

V    The  Kaiser's  Holiday     -        -        -        -  102 

vi    Hot  Weather          -        -        -        -        -  115 

vii     Autumn           ------  124 

viii     Winter  :   Mostly  about  Town         -        "  ^39 

ix    On  Festas        ------  1^7 

X     Saint  Spiridione      -----  172 

xi    Little  Journeys      -        -        -        -        -  185 

xii    A  Second  Chapter  of  Journeys       -        -  203 


c%rf^  «oa 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


Over  the  Straits  from  the  Achilleion     Frontispiece 

An  Afternoon  in  Spring       -        -  Facing  page    6i 

A  Gray  Day  in  the  Courtyard      -  „ 

Olive  Pickers        -        -        -        .  ^^ 

A  Gastouri  Belle          -        -        -  » 

Winter  Day  on  the  Lagoon          -  „ 

The  Villa  Achilleion  (West  Front)      „ 

Babadoni  at  Home        -        -        -  „ 

The  Market  Place  during  the 

Tomato  Season      ~        -        -  « 

FORTEZZA  VeCCHIA               "            "            "  « 

The  Fishing  Port          "        -        -  >, 

Sta.  Barbara  Potamo    -        -        -  „ 

Paleokastriz2:a      -        -        -        -  ^^ 

Almond  Blossom,  St.  Michaele    -  „ 
Map      ------ 


64 
70 

79 

95 
107 

119 


134 
H3 

169 
190 
211 

17 


INTRODUCTION 

WITH  a  story  reaching  far  beyond  history  to 
the  glorious  myths  of  Greece,  Corfu 
shared  also  in  its  Golden  Age,  and  in  the 
fantastic  mediaeval  romance  of  its  Prankish  subjection. 
The  little  island  has  played  its  part  in  every  period  of 
history,  and  until  recent  years  was  an  important 
junction  for  commerce,  and  a  more  important  political 
asset. 

With  a  beauty  of  scenery  unsurpassed  in  dainty 
perfection,  and  a  climate  that  gives  months  of  exquisite 
weather,  Corfu  has  been  strangely  forgotten  by  our 
generation,  and  one  can  get  information  of  it  more 
readily  from  the  classical  scholar  than  from  the  average 
traveller. 

East  and  West  no  longer  strive  for  dominance  in 
the  Ionian  Straits,  and  with  the  changing  conditions 
of  modern  life  commerce  has  passed  into  other  channels. 
The  island  stepping-stones  are  no  longer  needed. 

The  great  Venetian  forts  are  silent  and  dismantled, 
and  the  lovely  circle  of  the  bay  holds  only  a  few  cargo 
boats,  a  passing  yacht,  a  fleet  of  fishing  craft ;  at  most, 
a  squad  of  orderly  warships,  replacing  the  free-booting 
pirate-admirals  who  were  used  to  find  Corfu  so  rich  a 
prey.  And  the  oft-disputed  harbour  reposes  under  a 
clause  of  perpetual  neutrality. 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


Torn  between  races  fierce  for  power,  or  struggling 
alone ;  ruled  by  some  alien  hand  or  abandoned  to  the 
varied  hordes  of  pirates  which  ever  swept  the  shores 
of  the  Levant,  the  Ionian  Islands  rest  at  last,  a  band  of 
gems  unnoticed  on  their  wonderful  sea.  A  modern 
writer  describes  that  sea  as  of  "  almost  incredible  blue," 
and  it  haunts  the  memory,  with  its  marvel  of  ever 
changing  colour,  as  perhaps  the  most  worshipful  of  all 
Corfu's  charms. 

Though  large  numbers  of  tourists  land  during  the 
spring  months,  they  usually  make  only  a  short  stay, 
and  cannot  be  said  to  know  the  island,  glanced  at 
hastily  while  their  steamer  waits.  The  real  Corfu, 
with  the  tender  beauties  of  its  olive  woods,  the  simple 
friendliness  of  its  peasants,  the  absorbing  loveliness  of 
its  light  and  colour,  the  fascinating  variety  and  abun- 
dance of  its  flowers — these  are  known  only  to  a  few 
outside  its  residents,  a  handful  of  faithful  lovers 
who  return  year  after  year  for  the  joy  of  its  climate 
and  the  beauty  of  land  and  sea  ;  for  the  freedom  and 
simplicity  of  its  life  ;  or  for  the  winter  sport  in  Albania, 
whose  rugged  coast-line  and  ranges  of  wild  snowy 
peaks,  only  a  few  miles  across  the  straits,  make  so  sharp 
a  contrast  with  the  green  luxuriance  of  Corfu,  and 
are  so  attractive  to  the  Englishman  in  search  of  wild 
fowl,  woodcock  and  wild  boar. 

The  late  Earl  of  Carlisle  has  written  *  that  "  anyone 
who  wishes  to  condense  the  attractions  of  southern 

*  Diary  in  Greek   Waters. 
2 


Introduction 


scenery,  and  see  it  all  in  the  utmost  comfort  and 
luxury,  need  only  come  to  Corfu."  This  is  still  true 
after  half  a  century,  and  now  that  imperial  and  royal 
yachts  have  shown  the  way  within  recent  years,  the 
island  will  doubtless  receive  an  increasing  number  of 
visitors.  It  will  awake  to  modern  life ;  it  may  even 
become  a  winter  "  resort "  and  turn  affluent  and 
disagreeable ;  though,  as  its  attractions  are  solely  those 
that  nature  gave,  we  may  hope  that  only  nature  lovers 
will  resort  to  it. 

As  an  artist  I  give  thanks  that  I  was  there  before 
celebrity  has  more  than  touched  the  island,  and  that 
I  was  given  such  very  delightful  opportunities  for 
seeing  the  unchanged  life  of  the  country,  and  enjoying 
the  placid  content  and  perfect  courtesy  of  its  unspoilt 
peasantry.  I  must  confess  that  small  children  have 
already  begun  to  cry  "  pendarra  "  *  on  those  roads  to 
show  places  where  there  is  tourist  traffic,  and  indeed  I 
heard  some  rumours  of  a  public  motor  service ;  but, 
taken  as  a  whole,  the  island  is  mediaevally  untouched, 
and  absolutely  delightful. 

One  can  wander  unmolested  anywhere,  sure  of  a 
hospitable  welcome  in  any  village,  and  a  kindly  recep- 
tion of  the  most  primitive  attempts  at  conversational 
Greek.  On  all  but  the  chief  roads  the  horses  will  still 
shy — disastrously  for  their  loads — at  even  a  led  bicycle, 
and  a  stranger  is  one  to  be  much  wondered  after. 

The  village  dogs  are  the  only  disagreeable  note  in 


*  Halfpenny. 

3  B2 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


Corfu  wanderings.  Fortunately  they  do  not  know  we 
are  no  good  at  stone-throwing,  so  the  action  alone  is 
enough  to  keep  them  at  a  distance,  and,  on  foot,  they 
need  not  be  regarded.  Only  while  bicycling  they 
become  a  more  serious  nuisance,  occasionally  endanger- 
ing heels  or  skirts.  As  the  roads  through  villages  are 
generally  steep,  and  more  generally  diversified  by  ruts, 
dust  and  stones,  one  feels  that  dogs  make  the  track 
altogether  too  sporting.  Except  for  this  occasional 
hostility  of  the  dogs,  bicycling  is  an  altogether  enjoy- 
able way  of  seeing  Corfu.  The  main  roads  were  made 
by  the  English  and  are  mostly  in  good  repair.  The 
extraordinary  hills  and  passes  are  well  engineered,  and 
as  the  road  bends  and  turns  the  variety  of  scene  is  ever 
a  surprise.  The  long  lines  of  the  hills  of  Epiros  * 
blend  with  the  island  distances,  and  one  remembers 
only  to  wonder,  that  Corfu  is  but  forty  miles  long, 
and  twenty  at  its  widest,  such  varied  beauty  is  its 
dower. 

I  am  not  advocating  cycling  for  itself  in  Corfu,  but 
merely  as  the  simplest  way  of  seeing  the  island.  For 
it  needs  patience  and  almost  as  much  work  with  the 
hands  as  with  the  pedals.  It  is  usually  possible  to  find 
a  boy  to  push  a  bicycle  up  the  big  hills  (though  some- 
times he  has  to  be  shown  how).  But  coming  down, 
it  is  brake,  brake,  aU  the  way,  with  a  halt  here  and 
there  to  rest  the  tired  fingers. 

From  an  artist's  point  of  view  Corfu  is  a  paradise 

*  The  whole  mainland  is  usually  called  Albania  now. 

4 


Introduction 


of  most  varied  charms.  Every  glance,  every  turn, 
gives  a  picture.  A  dainty  colour  scheme  of  blossom 
and  olive  ;  or  a  decorative  panel  of  graceful  coast-line 
and  sentinel  cypress ;  or  vast  sweep  of  hills  gleaming 
white,  or  cloudswept  to  richest  purple. 

The  flowers  alone  would  make  a  botanist  forget  his 
home.  And  the  peasants  are  magnificent ;  whether 
resplendent  in  festa  dresses,  their  fine  heads  tired 
mediaevally,  or  in  the  soft  faded  and  patched  blues 
and  browns  of  their  working  garb, — they  are  always 
just  right.  And  the  songs  they  sing  at  their  work 
have  a  sound  of  the  ancient  world. 

All  through  the  spring  months  the  women  are  seen 
scattered  in  little  bands  under  the  flickering  sunhght 
of  the  olive-covered  land,  while  in  fields  and  orchards 
the  men  swing  the  heavy  "  zappe  "  *  in  a  grand  line 
of  song  and  motion. 

At  morn,  unendingly  fascinating  groups  pass  swiftly 
to  work,  and  at  sunset  straggle  in  long  procession  up 
the  rough  tracks  and  steep  roads  to  the  villages.  The 
women  are  gracefully  erect  under  the  great  burdens 
of  fruit,  faggots,  fodder  or  olives  which  all  bear  on 
their  heads ;  tiny  girls  trot  barefoot  beside  them,  each 
bearing  her  little  head-load,  or  leading  the  handful  of 
goats  and  sheep  which  are  the  constant  companions 
of  the  family.  There  is  probably  a  baby  pillowed  in 
a  wide  margin  of  grass,  vegetables,  olive  sacks,  etc., 
on  the  donkey. 

*  Hoe. 


An   Artist  in  Corfu 


The  spring  sunset  touches  the  island  to  a  jewel 
mystery  of  colour,  to  the  hush  of  some  pastoral  of 
long  ago.  Verily,  the  twentieth  century  has  not  yet 
arrived  ;    the  nineteenth  has  hardly  been  here. 

Over  the  Albanian  hills  sunset  marshals  the  clouds 
to  the  wildest  pageants,  fading  to  more  mysterious 
afterglow  ;  the  snows  shimmer  green  and  grey  and  dun 
in  the  twilight ;  the  gold  and  rose  of  the  opal  sky 
faint  and  fly  from  the  creeping  shadows,  and  lingeringly 
the  sea  surrenders  its  last  hold  of  their  glory.  Now  if 
the  full  moon  rise  from  beyond  those  snowy  hills,  the 
beauty  over  the  Straits  at  sunset  becomes  entirely 
unearthly.  It  may  be  that  our  world  made  spells  like 
this  when  it  was  young  ;  and  the  Ionian  Sea  hid  one  of 
them,  and  has  kept  the  secret  to  stir   our   duller   age. 

It  was  very  good  to  be  in  Corfu  in  those  months  of 
spring.  My  friends',  the  Dousmani's,  house  lies  above 
Gastouri,  among  the  steep  dropping  olive-woods,  high 
over  the  Straits.  It  is  quite  near  the  Achilleion,  and 
has  almost  an  equal  extent  of  view.  Each  morning, 
over  the  keen-edged  hills,  level  with  my  window,  came 
the  sun,  turning  the  sea  to  blinding  silver,  and  calling 
to  arise  and  seize  the  whole  of  the  glorious  day.  The  air 
was  fresh  and  crisp  from  the  gleaming  mountain  snow  ; 
the  sky,  infinitely  clear  and  high ;  and  the  whole  world 
twinkling  with  sunlight. 

Then,  if  the  blossom  would  let  me  pass  without 
painting  it,  I  must  climb  craggy  little  Kyria  Ki,  to  see 
further  over  a  world  bathed  in  sunshine,  passing  by 

6 


Introduction 


the  way  some  bonny  peasant  girl  and  her  goats  at  the 
spring  in  the  brushwood.  Or  we  must  tramp  across 
the  island  to  a  sunny  height  over  the  Mediterranean, 
where  hawks  hang  far  below  us,  and  a  little  golden  bay 
becomes  a  theatre  for  dreams.  And  the  scent  of  the 
wild  thyme  enters  aUve  into  the  memory. 

In  early  summer  the  wonder  of  the  clouds  vanishes, 
their  last  outposts  lying  faintly  over  the  melting  snows 
of  Epiros ;  moist  warm  airs  take  the  place  of  the 
inspiring  spring  breezes,  and  the  sun  rises  and  sets  in 
fairy  mists  of  rose  and  amber  and  pale  gold.  The 
wealth  of  woodland  flowers,  the  golden  riches  of  the 
nestling  orange  gardens,  the  shimmer  of  blossoms 
throughout  the  olive-covered  land — these  spring 
beauties  all  slip  away.  But  the  wonder  of  the  high 
sunlight  increases  :  it  turns  the  olives  into  trees  of 
rainbow  hue,  draws  strange  orchises  from  the  parched 
waste,  hangs  royal  blazon  of  purple  vetch  by  the  way- 
side, and  the  dripping  gold  of  broom  among  the  crags. 
It  sets  young  fig-leaves  like  emeralds  among  their 
ghostly  branches,  and  swiftly  it  awakens  the  vineyards, 
till  the  vines — the  tantalising,  unpaintable  greens  of 
the  vines — have  covered  the  earth. 

It  is  a  new  order  of  beauty  that  appears  now,  when 
the  whole  island  is  bathed  in  light,  and  it  is  perhaps 
the  most  fascinating  of  all. 

The  atmosphere  for  all  its  brilliancy  and  clearness 
is  never  hard,  and  the  olives  which  cover  Corfu  as  with 
a  garment  filter  the  light  very  tenderly  to  earth.     Their 

7 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


fine  veils  of  leaves  reflect  it  in  unbelievable  variety  of 
clear  and  gentle  tints.  Only  the  crags  and  graceful 
peaks  rise  above  this  flood  of  delicate  smoke-like  green, 
a  revelation  of  colour  and  light. 

High  on  the  hillsides  hang  the  long  lines  of  the 
villages  in  their  setting  of  olives  and  rock.  On  little 
peaks  and  crags  all  about  rise  their  simple  churches, 
each  with  a  little  detached  belfry  beside.  White  roads 
wind  to  the  distant  hills.  Wild  thyme  and  aromatic 
herbs  scent  the  breeze.  The  half  tropical  whirr  of 
insects  fills  the  air.  A  goat  girl  unseen  pipes  a  shrill 
cadence  from  the  scrub.  And  near  and  far  eternally 
the  donkeys  bray. 

Do  not  miss  the  great  spring  festas.  Of  these,  the 
most  worthy  is  the  procession  of  S.  Spiridione  on  Palm 
Sunday.  This  great  saint,  patron  of  Corfu,  and  on 
various  occasions  saviour  of  the  island  from  Turks  and 
other  plagues,  is  on  the  anniversaries  of  these  escapes 
honoured  in  a  procession  around  the  town;  and  the 
Palm  Sunday  (Greek  date)  thanksgiving  is  very  fine 
indeed ;  done  with  sincere  reverence,  and  a  joyous 
show  of  mediaeval  vestments,  standards,  lanterns,  and 
so  forth.  The  spectators  are  not  less  attractive  than 
the  procession,  for  every  peasant  who  can  spare  the 
time  and  afford  the  journey  comes  into  town,  and  there 
is  a  brave  array  of  the  delightful  festa  costumes  of  the 
different  districts. 

All  through  the  spring  there  are  Sunday  dances  in 
the  village  streets,  and  on  Ascension  Day  there  is  a  huge 

8 


Introduction 


gathering  near  the  Canone,  just  outside  the  town.  But 
this  has  become  so  much  a  townsman's  show  now  that 
the  smaller  and  more  distant  village  festasare  better  worth 
seeing.  Village  weddings  are  also  delightful  to  watch, 
with  their  quaint  ceremony  of  counting  the  dowry,  and 
their  music    and  dancing  and   little  processions. 

When  you  most  reluctantly  tear  yourself  from  the 
country,  there  are  the  queer  old  streets  of  the  town 
to  explore ;  narrow  and  dark  and  curly,  arcaded  in 
Italian  style,  and  not  badly  kept,  though  the  sanitation 
is — weU,  southern. 

The  men  embroidering  festa  dresses  in  the  queer 
dens  of  the  Hebraica  are  most  paintable  ;  but  I  think 
one  would  need  to  be  trained  from  youth  up  to  stand 
the  Hebraica.  The  open  market,  on  the  wide  harbour 
front,  is  sweeter,  with  its  gay  piles  of  fruit  and  vegetables 
under  awnings,  and  its  breezes  fresh  from  the  blue 
world  of  the  Straits. 

There  are  often  warships  anchored  in  the  beautiful 
wide  bay,  and  their  sailors  mix  with  the  islanders  and 
Albanians  who  are  always  clustered  about  the  cafes  and 
shops ;  fine  looking  highlanders  with  grand  carriage 
and  most  picturesque  costume.  They  are  usually 
quite  tractable  in  Corfu,  though  troublesome  enough 
to  their  Turkish  masters  at  home.  The  Corfiotes  are 
a  mild  and  gentle  people,  very  restful  after  the 
Italians.  They  will  not  even  pester  you  to  go  for 
drives,  and  it  is  quite  unlikely  that  you  will  be 
begged  from. 

9 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


When  you  have  seen  a  little  of  Corfu  you  will  desire 
to  return  for  many  years.  If  you  are  an  artist  you 
must !  Are  there  not  most  wonderful  oHve  pastorals 
for  a  Corot ;  beautiful  peasant  studies  for  a  Millet ; 
changing  miracles  of  atmosphere  for  a  Turner ;  and 
most  Teniers-like  interiors  in  hut  and  oil-magazine  ? 
And  can  the  newest  Spanish  painter  show  more  daring 
colour  than  that  cluster  of  peasants,  homing  in  flat 
blaze  of  sunset,  along  the  golden  cliff-side  road  above 
the  shadowed  valley  ? 

The  sportsman,  too,  desires  another  winter  in  Corfu. 
And  the  dreamer,  surely  the  dreamer,  must  return  to 
this  land  as  beautiful  as  a  fairy-tale,  that  calls  its  lovers 
back  by  scent  of  thyme,  and  iris  shimmer  of  countless 
flowers  ;  by  crystalline  air,  and  a  magic  of  high  sun- 
light sifted  through  the  island's  veil  of  olives ;  by 
wondrous  blue  hills,  over,  and  threaded  by,  more 
wonderful  blue  sea  ;  and  by  the  charm  of  a  peasant 
life  that  knows  nothing  of  the  modern  world.  "  So 
and  no  otherwise  "  indeed,  calls  Corfu  to  her  lovers ; 
and  to  her  gentle  spell  they  eagerly  return. 

But  as  in  the  close  cultivation  of  the  fields  around 
the  town  there  is  not  room,  and  the  rest  of  the  island 
is  not  level  enough,  for  a  golf-course,  and  as  there  are 
no  entertainments,  casinos,  or  other  pastimes  of 
civilisation,  it  is  possible  that  the  restless  traveller  of 
the  present  day  may  yet  leave  Corfu  awhile  in  peace 
for  those  who  love  a  land  content  in  its  comparative 
poverty  and  with  a  beauty  aU  unspoilt  by  modern 

lO 


Introduction 


development.  To  these  I  would  say  that  the  people 
are  friendly  and  hospitable,  particularly  to  the  British  ; 
the  hotels  in  town  are  good,  and  the  journey  simple. 

Corfu  is  only  a  twelve  hours'  voyage  from  Brindisi, 
or  four  delightful  days  down  the  Adriatic  from  Venice, 
touching  on  the  way  at  Ancona,  Bari  and  Brindisi. 
The  long  sea  route  from  Liverpool  to  Naples  in  any 
of  the  eastern  boats  is  also  a  pleasant  approach,  and 
there  is  an  occasional  Ellerman-Papayanni  liner  which 
goes  right  to  Corfu  via  Algiers  and  Malta,  while  a 
broken  journey  by  way  of  Dalmatia  is  the  most 
fascinating  of  all.  I  once  went  in  a  tramp — but  that 
is  quite  a  different  tale. 

Italian  is  the  most  useful  language,  as  it  is  spoken 
by  nearly  every  one  in  town,  and  even  by  a  few  of  the 
country  people  in  the  nearer  villages.  But  French, 
German  and  English  are  also  very  often  understood 
in  town,  while  in  the  country  the  slenderest  knowledge 
of  colloquial  Greek  will  go  a  long  way.  Now  the 
rest  is  all  in  the  guide-books. 


II 


FOREWORD 

I  OFFER  this  story  of  Corfu  with  apologies,  for 
I  am  neither  scholar  nor  historian,  and  with  no 
qualifications  and  much  diffidence  take  up  a 
scholar's  theme.  I  have  gathered  my  account  from 
the  learned  works  of  those  who  see  and  record  the 
pregnant  facts  of  history,  but  I  fear  it  lacks  the  synthe- 
sizing touch  which  should  make  it  alive  and  true. 

The  story  of  a  small  and  much-contested  country 
is  in  any  case  Uable  to  be  only  a  procession  of  events 
and  characters,  as  of  scenes  in  a  pageant  :  a  tale  of 
conquerors,  marking,  it  is  true,  the  trend  of  the  world's 
power,  but  leaving  our  stage  again  ere  they  have  touched 
our  hearts  or  possessed  our  minds.  And  the  smaller 
the  country,  the  more  its  history  is  interwoven  with  that 
of  its  greater  neighbours.  Corfu's  history  becomes 
merged  in  the  history  of  the  south  of  Europe,  and  the 
little  island  is  absorbed  by  its  strifes. 

Through  the  sunny  peace  of  its  limpid  air  come 
echoes  of  nearly  all  the  great  struggles  of  Europe  : — of 
Greek  and  Roman,  Roman  and  Barbarian,  of  cross  and 
crescent,  and  of  Europe  and  Corsican ;  but  the  echoes 
are  outworn  and  faint,  and  they  cannot  stir  the  pro- 
found tranquillity  of  Corfu,  now  a  very  lotos  land  of 
peace. 

13 


Foreword 

My  warmest  thanks  are  due  to  the  friends  both  in 
Corfu  and  in  England  who  have  given  such  un- 
failing help  in  the  making  of  this  book,  and  without 
whom  it  would  not  have  been  written. 

I  wish  to  thank  Mr.  Miller  also  for  permission  to 
quote  from  The  Latins  in  the  Levant,  and  to  acknow- 
ledge my  indebtedness  to  the  other  sources  from  which 
I  have  gathered  this  sketch  of  Corfu's  history.  In 
addition  to  the  books  (a  list  of  which  is  on  the  next 
page)  which  I  have  referred  to  for  the  story  of  Corfu, 
I  have  used  Isabel  Florence  Hapgood's  translation  of 
the  Orthodox  Church  Services  for  the  chapter  on 
festas ;  and  a  translation  by  A.  S.  E.  Dawes  of  a  little 
book  on  S.  Spiridione  by  the  late  Mr.  Brokinis  of  Corfu, 
for  the  history  of  the  processions  of  the  saint. 

S.  ATKINSON. 
April,  191 1. 


14 


List  of  Authorities. 

Manual  of  Ancient  History  (Schmitz),  A.  &  C.  Black, 
1855.  History  of  the  World  (Smith),  Walton  &  Maber- 
ley,  1864.  Murray s  Guide ^  1884.  The  Latins  in  the 
Levant  (William  Miller),  John  Murray,  1908.  The 
Princes  of  Achaia  and  the  Chronicles  of  Morea  (Sir 
Rennell  Rodd),  Arnold,  1907.  History  of  the  Crusades 
(Michaud),  Routledge,  1852.  The  Navy  of  Venice 
(Alethea  Wiel),  Murray,  1910.  Venice  in  the  ijth  and 
i^th  Centuries  (F.  C.  Hodgson),  George  Allen,  1910. 
Modern  Europe  (Dyer),  George  Bell,  1877.  History  of 
Geography  (Edward  Freeman),  Historical  Essays^  vol. 
III.  (Edward  Freeman),  Macmillan,  1879.  Venice 
(Molmenti).  Cambridge  Modem  History  (Cambridge 
University  Press):  vol.  viii.,  The  European  Powers 
and  the  Eastern  Question  (Richard  Lodge),  1904  ; 
vol.  ix.,  The  Napoleonic  Empire  at  its  height  (T. 
Holland  Rose),  1906.  History  of  Europe,  from  the  Com- 
mencement of  the  French  Revolution  to  the  Restoration  of 
the  Bourbons  (Sir  Archibald  Alison),  Blackwood,  1854. 
Story  of  the  Nations  Series  :  Greece  (Schuckburgh), 
Fisher  Unwin,  1905.  LithgorvSs  Rare  Adventures 
(1609),  Maclehose,  1906.  The  Shores  of  the  Mediter- 
ranean (Frank  Hall  Standish),  Ed.  Lumley,  Chancery 
Lane,  1837.  ^^  Decline  and  Fall  of  the  Roman 
Empire  (Gibbon).  History  of  Greece  (George  Finlay), 
Clarendon  Press,  1877.  Fynes  Morison's  Itineraryy 
Maclehose,  1907. 

15 


COKFU. 

Skcrch  ma|> 

Places   vliifecl. « 

Ol+icr  VI Hays 


THE   STORY  OF  CORFU 


THE    BEGINNING    OF   THE   STORY 

THE  Story  of  Corfu  and  her  sister  isles  began 
so  long  ago  that  they  were  ancient  in  myth 
and  renowned  for  beauty  ere  ever  the  first 
dim  nebulae  of  history  had  crystallised  about  them. 

From  all  the  beautiful  land  of  Greece  it  was  Cythera 
that  took  to  herself  the  legend  of  foam-born  Aphrodite, 
and  in  that  island  a  wonderful  shrine  long  marked  the 
birthplace  and  favoured  haunt  of  the  golden  goddess.  * 

Ithaka  is  the  "  dear  fatherland  "  of  Ulysses,  and 
Kerkyra  (Corfu)  itself  is  haunted  with  the  Homeric 
legend  ;  Fano  in  the  north  is,  so  they  say,  "  the  fair 
isle,*'  the  "  seagirt  island  set  with  trees,"  where  the 
bright  goddess  Calypso  so  long  held  Ulysses  in  her  toils* 
But  this  island  is  only  a  few  hours'  voyage  from  Ker- 
kyra, and  we  may  wonder,  just  a  little,  how  Ulysses' 
raft,  with  the  fair  wind  sent  by  Calypso,  took  eighteen 
days  over  the  passage.  Though  the  western  voyagings 
of  Ulysses  thus  invite  vaguer  theories  than  his  adventures 
in  the  then  better  known  eastern  seas,  Kerkyra  is  very 
generally  identified  with  fertile  Scheria,  the  kingdom 

*  Lithgow  saw  the  ruins  of  "  the  old  adored  shrine  "  in  1609. 

17  C 


The   Story  of  Corfu 


of  Alcinous,  and  land  of  the  oar-loving  Phaeacians.  And 
truly  no  one  could  desire  a  more  lovely  setting  than 
its  shores  for  the  fair  legend  of  Nausicaa.  It  does  not 
really  matter  at  which  disputed  point  the  wanderer 
was  cast  ashore.  In  the  north-east,  the  tiny  hamlet  of 
Kassopa,  with  the  site  of  ancient  Kassiope,  claims  to  be 
the  capital  of  King  Alcinous,  and  home  of  Nausicaa. 
And  near  it  I  know  a  little  perfect  bay  that  could  hardly 
have  passed  through  the  ages  of  fable  without  becoming 
foster-parent  to  just  such  a  charming  tale.  For 
surely  white-armed  Nausicaa  should  have  played  at 
ball  there,  where  a  rosy  flower-foam  on  knee-deep 
meadow  greets  the  waves,  and  the  fresh  north  breeze 
woos  white  crests  from  the  sea. 

And,  at  so  fair  a  landing,  homeward-sailing  Ulysses 
could  scarce  have  wholly  regretted  this  last  delay. 

But  there  is  a  second  claimant  for  Nausicaa — in 
Potamo,  with  its  full  stream  near  lovely  Govino  bay. 
And  as  of  old  there  were  three  cities  in  Kerkyra,  here 
may  have  been  one ;  and  we  are  left  to  prefer  which 
we  will  as  the  most  lovely  and  most  likely. 

Myself,  being  of  Gastouri  by  adoption,  I  incline  to 
our  southern  peasants'  version,  which  places  the  walled 
town  of  Alcinous  on  the  peninsula  of  Palaeopolis,  claims 
Cressida's  stream,  opposite  on  the  lagoon,  for  the 
washing  of  royal  linen  ("  for  the  places  of  washing  are 
far  distant  from  the  city  "),  and  the  shores  thereby, 
— the  old  Hyllaean  harbour,  now  shallow  and  reed- 
fringed,  as  an  inland  lake — for  the  bleaching  ground  of 

i8 


Ulysses 


the  "  girdles  and  garments  and  splendid  cloaks  "  and 
the  playground  of  the  fair-haired  princess  and  her 
maids. 

The  place  fits  so  sweetly  with  the  Homeric  story  : 
one  feels  that  Corfu  to-day  might  well  be  stage  for  it 
still  :  the  finding  and  succouring  of  sea-worn  divine 
Ulysses,  and  then  the  procession  home — Nausicaa  in 
front,  holding  her  mules  to  the  gentle  foot-pace  of  her 
convoy.  They  pass  around  the  lagoon,  through  the 
fields  and  tillage  of  men,  to  the  city  with  the  lofty 
turret  and  a  fair  port  on  each  side  and  a  narrow  entrance. 
That  city  is  dust,  but  the  way  to  it  is  still  through  fields 
and  tillage  of  men,  by  the  safe  harbour  for  the  black 
ships. 

And  still  the  orchards  by  the  Canone  are  fruitful, 
almost  as  those  famous  four  acres  of  the  stout-hearted 
Alcinous,  where  the  fruit  never  perishes,  nor  does  it 
fail  in  winter  or  summer,  lasting  throughout  the  whole 
year. 

The  characteristic  Greek  independence  goes  back 
even  to  these  Homeric  days ;  for  these  Phaeacians — 
"  nearly  related  to  the  gods,  yet  neither  of  gods  nor 
of  mortal  men  " ; — were  defying  Poseidon,  their  an- 
cestor, in  befriending  Ulysses.  The  Phaeacians  dwelt 
apart,  intercourse  with  all  mortals  was  forbidden,  yet 
we  find  them,  true  Greeks  in  virtues  as  in  faults,  welcom- 
ing this  stranger  (doubly  interdicted  in  that  the  sea  god's 
wrath  for  the  Polyphemus  incident  still  pursued  him), 
and  giving  him  no  stinted  hospitality,  but  a  royal  feast- 

19  C2 


The  Story  of  Corfu 


ing  and  gifts  richer  than  would  have  fallen  to  him  at 
the  sack  of  Troy. 

And  though  they  invited  him  to  contest  in  their 
games,  they  were  too  courteous  hosts  to  cap  his  wonder- 
tales  of  wanderings,  as,  sea-faring  demigods,  they  might 
have  done.  But  they  gave  him  of  their  best,  and  by 
the  will  of  the  Olympians  sailed  him  home  in  peace  to 
Ithaka  at  last,  asleep  in  one  of  those  magic  Phaeacian 
ships,  which  compassed  the  longest  voyage  in  a  single 
day ;  steered  without  rudder  or  helmsman  by  their 
own  proper  instinct. 

And  so  Ulysses  goes  home,  and  is  out  of  the  story. 

But  Poseidon  caught  his  bold  rebel  children  as  they 
returned — for  Zeus  granted  his  revenge — and  he  smote 
them  with  tempest,  and  bound  the  swift  ship  in  the 
sea  while  driving  home,  and  made  it  a  stone  and  rooted 
it  below. 

And  there  it  stays,  unmistakeably  the  ship  of  the 
vanished  Phaeacians,  and  enduring  sea-mark  of  the 
vengeance  of  a  god. 

The  first  definite  fact  in  the  history  of  Kerkyra  is 
its  colonisation  by  Corinth,  b.c.  735  ;  and  the  island 
colony  flourished  to  such  purpose  that  within  a  century 
it  had  established  in  its  turn  colonies  at  Leucas  (Sta. 
Maura),  and  at  Dyrrachium  (Epidamnus),  Apollonia, 
and  Anactorium  on  the  eastern  shore  of  the  Adriatic 
by  which  it  enjoyed  a  thriving  trade  with  the  hinter- 
land of  lUyria. 

In  a  way  characteristic  of  Greeks,  and  following  the 

20 


Ulysses  and  the  Phaeacians 

precedent  of  their  legendary  forerunners,  the  Ker- 
kyraeans  began  to  kick  against  the  parental  authority, 
and  the  earliest  sea-fight  recorded  in  history  took  place 
between  the  Corinthians  and  their  rebellious  colony, 

B.C.  665. 

Herodotus,  their  earHest  historian,  charges  the 
Kerkyraeans  with  such  disloyalty  to  the  national  cause, 
during  the  Persian  war  of  475  B.C.,  that  their  names 
were  withheld  from  the  muster  roll  of  Salamis.  But 
their  subsequent  character  in  history  is  against  this 
story,  for  they  were  better  soldiers  and  sailors  than  most 
Greeks ;  therefore  the  alternative  account  of  this 
incident  is  more  credible,  as  it  is  more  honourable. 
In  this  version,  the  Kerkyraean  fleet  of  fifty  vessels 
was  ordered  to  await  the  issue  of  battle  at  Cape 
Taenaron,  and  then  join  the  victors,  so  the  Kerkyraeans 
cannot  be  counted  responsible  for  its  absence. 

Fifty  ships,  even  little  ones,  were  no  mean  contri- 
bution to  their  country's  navy  :  Kerkyra  in  those  days, 
and  indeed  through  many  cycles  of  unease  and  vicissi- 
tudes, was  a  wealthy  and  important  community. 
Important  enough  then  to  set  light  to  the  smouldering 
jealousies  and  discontents  which  burst  into  the  Pelo- 
ponnesian  war. 

The  beginning  of  the  disagreement  was  again  about 
colonies.  In  B.C.  435  one  of  the  ordinary  revolutions 
occurred  in  Dyrrachium.  The  nobles,  expelled,  en- 
listed neighbouring  barbarians,  and  the  populace  sent 
terrified  for  Kerkyra's  help.     This  being  refused  they 

21 


The  Story  of  Corfu 


applied  to  Corinth,  mother  state  of  Corfu,  which  sent 
a  fleet  that  the  Kercyrseans  defeated.  The  Kercyraeans 
blockaded  the  town,  won"  another  naval  victory,  and 
then  both  parties  applied  to  Athens  for  aid.  Athens 
was  first  for  helping  Corinth,  but  the  bribe  of  her 
splendid  harbour  as  a  starting-point  for  projected 
encroachments  on  Sicily  and  Italy,  brought  Pericles 
to  the  side  of  Kerkyra,  and  sent  a  fleet,  to  decide  a  naval 
battle  in  b.c.  432,  in  favour  of  the  island.  And  thus 
the  war  began  between  the  rival  states. 

By  the  end  of  the  Peloponnesian  war  the  political 
importance  of  Kerkyra  had  passed  from  her,  for  in 
427  B.C.  a  civil  war  of  unparalleled  ferocity  had  rent 
the  island  ;  Athens  in  vain  attempted  to  restore  peace, 
and  for  the  remainder  of  the  classic  period  little  is 
chronicled  of  Kerkyra. 

We  gather  that  her  material  prosperity  suffered  little 
for  this  political  insignificance  :  for  Xenophon,  writing 
of  the  Spartan  invasion  under  Mnessipus  in  373  b.c, 
records  the  high  state  of  Kerkyraean  cultivation  and 
fertility ;  so  tempting  that  the  invaders  promptly 
lapsed  from  Spartanhood,  were  sated  with  loot,  and 
developed  a  very  critical  taste  in  wines  ! 

The  eastern  shores  of  the  Adriatic,  the  thin  line  of 
Dalmatia,  and  the  Ionian  stepping-stones  further 
south  have  ever  been  the  debatable  land  of  Europe. 
The  farthest  bounds  of  Greek  civilisation  were  here, 
and  along  this  line  crept  Rome  to  an  eastern  empire.*' 

*  Freeman,  Historical  Essays,  vol.  III. 
22 


Early   History 


In  mediaeval  days  east  and  west  fought  just  as  fiercely 
for  these  outposts  and  harbours.  It  is  not  a  happy 
fate  to  be  little  and  valuable  among  large  fierce  neigh- 
bours. The  histories  of  the  Ionian  Islands  are  even 
more  varied  than  is  that  of  many-mastered  Greece, 
while  politically  the  history  of  Corfu  hardly  touches 
that  of  the  motherland  until  the  union  of  1864. 

In  classic  times  Spartans,  Athenians  and  Mace- 
donians owned  Kerkyra  in  turn  :  King  Pyrrhus  of 
Epiros  held  its  dominating  harbour  during  his  Italian 
wars  ;  and  finally,  tormented  by  Teuta,  Queen  of  Illyria, 
it  submitted,  soon  after  the  Punic  War,  b.c.  229,  to 
the  rising  power  of  Rome,  and  became  one  of  the  first 
and  most  important  stations  for  the  eastward  advance 
of  the  new  empire. 

In  the  noble  bay  of  Kerkyra  Augustus  gathered  his 
fleet  for  that  great  battle  that  gave  him  the  world, 
and  a  succession  of  illustrious  Romans  visited  the  island 
on  their  main  passageway  between  Brundisium  and 
Dyrrachium.  Tibullus,  Cato  and  Cicero  all  saw  Ker- 
kyra, and  on  the  authority  of  Suetonius  we  learn  that 
Nero,  on  his  way  to  Greece,  sang  and  danced  before 
the  ancient  altar  of  Zeus  at  Kassiope. 

II 

THE   MIDDLE   AGES 

The  fortunes  of  the  Ionian  Islands  again  became 
troubled  as  the  strong  arm  of  Rome  failed.  The 
islands  were  divided  among  the  various  Latin  states, 

23 


The  Story  of  Corfu 


and  were  desolated  at  frequent  intervals  by  pirates 
of  infinite  variety,  Christian  and  Moslem.  Corfu  and 
the  island  duchy  of  Cephalonia  were  the  richest  prizes, 
and  their  history  rarely  coincides,  while  at  times  the 
two  islands  have  owed  allegiance  to  powers  as  remote 
as  Anjou  and  Byzantium.  Summing  up  the  changed 
times  Gibbon*  writes  :  "  At  the  time  of  Pythagoras 
the  coast  of  Great  Greece  was  planted  with  free  and 
opulent  cities  :  these  cities  were  peopled  with  soldiers, 
artists,  and  philosophers.  ..."  In  the  tenth  century 
*'  these  once  flourishing  provinces  were  clouded  with 
ignorance,  impoverished  with  tyranny,  and  depopulated 
by  barbarian  war  :  nor  can  we  severely  accuse  the 
exaggeration  of  a  contemporary,  that  a  fair  and  ample 
district  was  reduced  to  the  same  desolation  which  had 
covered  the  earth  after  the  general  deluge."  Else- 
where he  says,  "  The  three  great  nations  of  the  world, 
the  Greeks,  the  Saracens  and  the  Franks,  encountered 
each  other  on  the  theatre  of  Italy."  They  encountered 
each  other  on  the  theatre  of  the  Adriatic  too,  and 
Corfu  was  its  key. 

The  Ionian  Islands  had  their  full  share  of  chance 
and  change  in  those  amazing  years  of  the  Frankish 
conquest,  when  the  restless  energy  and  almost  fan- 
tastic valour  of  a  handful  of  knights-adventurers  made 
conquest  of  Greece,  and  when  the  Fourth  Crusade  broke 
the  ancient  empire  of  Byzantium,  founded  New  Rome^ 
founded  New  France,  but  forgot  Jerusalem.     Swiftly 

*  VIII.,  98. 

24 


Corfu  and  the   Crusaders 

the  new  kingdoms  rose  and  fell,  constantly  their  intri- 
cate balance  was  shifted  by  death  or  marriage  or  treaty, 
while  the  conquered  people  had  scarce  a  word  to  say 
in  the  choice  of  their  bold  overlords. 

Corfu  endured  much,  for  its  superb  harbour  and 
defences  and  important  position  were  always  envied, 
and  as  dowry  or  dependency  it  passed  under  many 
hands.  It  had  been  mastered  by  Epiros,  Achaia, 
Naples,  Sicily  and  Anjou,  before  submitting  to  its 
four  hundred  years  of  Venetian  rule. 

Long  ere  the  Prankish  conquest  of  the  Levant,  the 
northern  tribes  had  broken  in  on  Romania ;  had 
become  civilised,  and  been  themselves  invaded  by 
northern  rovers.  The  Northmen  were  seeking  con- 
quests, and  the  jealousies  as  well  as  the  weaknesses  of 
the  established  powers  opened  their  gates  : — as  they 
opened  them  to  the  Saracens,  in  Spain,  in  Sicily,  and 
in  Italy. 

Venice  also  was  seeking  conquest,  the  conquest  of 
a  vast  commerce.  A  tributary  of  Byzantium  in  the 
ninth  and  tenth  centuries,  even  then  she  owned  and 
governed  her  own  fortified  quarter  of  that  city ;  and 
her  skilful  commercial  policy,*  her  ready  navy,  and 
increasing  wealth,  soon  rid  her  of  the  most  nominal 
submission,  won  her  some  of  the  finest  defences  in  the 
Levant,  and,  in  time,  an  almost  crushing  preponderance 
of  trading  rights  in  its  ports. 

*  The  policy  of  Venice  was  marked  by  the  avarice  of  a  trading-,  and 
the  insolence  of  a  maritime  power,  yet  her  ambition  was  prudent. — 
Gibbon. 

25 


The  Story  of  Corfu 


Corfu  was  a  first  necessity  for  the  Levantine  trade 
of  Venice,  and  early  she  recognised  this,  but  it  was  long 
ere  she  won  the  fort  from  its  Norman  lords. 

In  1081  Robert  Guiscard,*  Norman  founder  of  the 
kingdom  of  Naples,  seized  Corfu,  with  mind  for  an 
eastern  empire  beyond  it.  As  type  of  the  Norman 
adventurer  at  his  best,  this  heroic  master  of  Corfu  is 
worthy  of  notice. 

One  of  the  twelve  sons  of  Tancred,  like  nine  of  his 
brothers  he  wandered  south  to  the  Norman  conquests 
in  Apulia.  Even  the  reluctant  praise  of  his  enemies 
has  endowed  him  with  the  heroic  qualities  of  a  soldier 
and  a  statesman. 

"  His  lofty  stature  surpassed  the  tallest  of  his  army  ; 
his  limbs  were  cast  in  the  true  proportion  of  strength 
and  gracefulness ;  and  to  the  decline  of  Hfe  he  main- 
tained the  patient  vigour  of  health  and  the  commanding 
dignity  of  his  form. 

"  His  complexion  was  ruddy,  his  shotdders  were 
broad,  his  hair  and  beard  were  long  and  of  a  flaxen 
colour,  his  eyes  sparkled  with  fire,  and  his  voice,  like 
that  of  Achilles,  could  impress  obedience  and  terror 
amidst  the  tumult  of  battle. 

"  His  boundless  ambition  was  founded  on  the  con- 
sciousness of  superior  worth  ;  in  the  pursuit  of  greatness 
he  was  never  arrested  by  the  scruples  of  justice  and 
seldom  moved  by  the  feelings  of  humanity ;  though 
not  insensible  of  fame,  the  choice  of  open  or  clandestine 

*  Guiscard  =  Wiscard  =  Wiseacre  =  Wiseman  =  Kallidus. 

26 


Robert  Guiscard 


means  was  determined  only  by  his  present  advantage. 
. .  .  Robert  was  praised  by  theApulian  poet  for  excelling 
the  cunning  of  Ulysses  and  the  eloquence  of  Cicero."  * 

The  Pope  had  invested  him  Duke  of  Calabria, 
Apulia,  "  and  all  the  lands  which  his  sword  could  rescue 
from  the  schismatic  Greeks  and  the  unbelieving 
Saracens."  He  had  crossed  to  Sicily  in  an  open  boat, 
and  with  incredible  hardships  and  endurance  in  thirty 
years  had  won  the  island.  He  had  prepared  a  vast 
force  for  the  invasion  of  the  Byzantine  empire,  and 
Corfu  was  the  first  step  on  his  way.  The  Greeks  in 
Corfu  made  no  defence  or  opposition  to  the  landing 
of  a  portion  of  the  Norman  fleet,  under  Bohemond, 
Robert's  son,  while  along  the  coast  the  towns  opened 
before  Robert's  name.  After  a  long  and  unsuccessful 
siege  of  Durazzo  he  was  summoned  home  by 
troubles  in  Italy,  and  left  Bohemond,  a  fine  soldier, 
to  hold  the  Greek  conquests. 

This  same  year  the  Venetians  at  the  invitation  of 
the  Emperor  Alexios  Comnenos,  attacked  and  took 
Corfu,  with  the  exception  of  the  fort,  stoutly  defended 
by  Bohemond.  Robert  and  a  vast  fleet  were  summoned 
from  Italy,  there  was  much  stern  fighting,  and  a  close 
naval  encounter  in  the  "  canal  "  of  Casoppa. 

Bad  weather  and  the  falling  away  of  their  Greek 
allies  weakened  the  Venetian  fleet,  and  the  Normans 
finally  annihilated  it  with  the  cruelty  of  the  age,  and 
regained  Corfu — with  a  raging  pestilence  upon  them. 

*  Gibbon,  voL  VII.,  p.  1 1 1,  in  Murray's  edition  of  1887. 
27 


The  Story  of  Corfu 


With  Corfu  as  his  base  Robert  made  a  second  attempt 
on  the  eastern  empire.  He  got  to  the  heart  of  Epiros, 
and  to  Thessaly.  He  made  Byzantium  tremble,  as  in 
Italy  he  made  the  Emperor  Henry  fly  before  him ;  but 
he  established  no  empire  east  of  Corfu,  and  only  held  the 
island  till  1088,  when  he  died  of  an  epidemic  in 
Cephalonia. 

Gibbon  writes  of  this  "  premature  death  "  at  the 
age  of  seventy  years. 

He  was  succeeded  by  a  son,  Roger,  who  regained  the 
Italian  possessions  and  was  made  "  Great  Count  "  of 
Sicily  in  iioi,  from  whence  he  annexed  ports  along 
the  African  coast ;  but  it  seems  Corfu  had  again  lapsed 
to  Romania,  for  when  this  great  adventurer  was  re- 
buffed in  advances  for  the  hand  of  the  heiress  of  that 
empire  we  find  him  breaking  a  peace  of  sixty  years 
and  sending  his  admiral  George  of  Sicily  to  annex  the 
island,  which  was  done  without  opposition.* 

Roger's  navy  was  a  growing  menace  to  Italy  and 
Greece,  and  only  excelled  by  that  of  Venice,  and  the 
conquerors  of  Corfu  soon  made  themselves  so  aggressive 

*  It  is  to  be  noted  in  the  history  of  Corfu,  how  seldom  the  island  alone 
made  any  attempt  to  resist  a  conqueror.  Possessed  by  any  strong 
power  it  was  valiant  to  the  death  with  its  protectors  ;  but  left  alone  it 
opened  willingly  to  the  strongest.  For  its  eternal  choice  was  between 
the  mastery  of  a  naval  power  or  the  ravages  of  pirates.  Gibbon  states 
that  when  the  jealousies  of  Italian  states  had  let  in  the  Saracens  from 
Sicily,  "  Their  frequent  and  almost  annual  squadrons  issued  from  the 
port  of  Palermo  ....  and  more  formidable  fleets  were  sometimes 
tempted  to  assist  or  oppose  the  Moslems  of  an  adverse  sect."  Annual 
squadrons  of  Saracens  ;  annual  squadrons  of  all  the  other  nations  also, 
one  may  suppose,  since  they  all  came  to  the  golden  shores  of  the  Levant 
to  plunder  and  enslave. 

28 


The  Great  Count 


along  the  shores  of  Greece  that  the  Emperor  Manuel 
was  obliged  to  oppose  them.  But  the  Empire  was 
suffering  at  the  same  period  from  Norman  incursions 
at  Thebes  and  Corinth,  and  poor  Manuel  could  in  no 
wise  oppose  these  sea-wolves  without  the  aid  of  the 
Venetian  navy.  The  strong  arm  of  Venice  was,  of 
course,  ever  ready,  when  concessions  of  trade  or  power 
were  to  be  gained,  and  Byzantium's  need  was  her 
opportunity  for  expansion  in  the  Levant.  Confirmed 
in  the  huge  grants  of  honours,  tribute  and  free-trade, 
gained  by  her  help  in  1085,  and  with  the  added  con- 
cessions of  free  trade  in  Cyprus  and  Rhodes,  Venice 
now  joined  the  Greek  fleet  in  a  long  siege  of  Corfu. 

Though  aware  of  the  immense  importance  of  the 
situation  against  the  swelling  tide  of  the  Normans,  for 
Athens,  Thebes  and  Corinth  were  suffering  from  Nor- 
man rapine,  jealous  quarrels  broke  out  between  the 
Greek  and  Venetian  allies.  There  was  a  shameful 
period  when  the  Venetians  withdrew,  captured  the 
Emperor  Manuel  and  insulted  him  with  a  mockery 
he  could  not  resent.  Helpless,  he  could  only  beg  them 
to  continue  the  siege  with  him ;  and  finally  after  a 
stubborn  defence,  the  citadel  fell  in  the  autumn  of 
1 148.  This  fierce  struggle  greatly  augmented  the 
growing  enmity  between  Norman  and  Greek,  Greek 
and  Venetian,  as  the  weakening  empire  felt  the  pressure 
of  the  younger  powers.  The  enmity  broke  out  later 
in  a  wholesale  imprisonment  of  all  Venetians  in  Con- 
stantinople  in    1 171,   and   an   abortive  expedition   of 

29 


The  Story  of  Corfu 


revenge  did  not  diminish  the  bitter  feelings  of  Venice 
against  Manuel.  A  wary  hostility  was  offered  by  Venice 
to  the  encroaching  western  chiefs,  whose  tentative 
advances  were  threatening  her  eastern  supremacy. 
The  navy  of  Roger  was  second  only  to  her  own  and 
in  1 156  Normans  and  Greeks  made  a  peace  that  lasted 
thirty  years.  The  Adriatic  was  covered  with  the  rival 
squadrons  of  Roger  and  Venice.  But  the  power  of  the 
latter,  disciplined  by  a  slower  growth,  endured  ;  while 
the  Norman  shrank  and  vanished. 

In  1 1 85  there  was  a  last  struggle  between  Normans 
and  Greeks,  when  William  the  Good,  grandson  of 
Roger  of  Sicily,  laid  hands  on  Corfu  and  other  parts 
of  the  eastern  Adriatic,  granting  them  in  fief  to  his 
admiral,  Margarito,  who  as  "  King  of  the  Epirotes  " 
(the  period  is  resplendent  in  titles)  founded  a  dynasty 
which  in  Cephalonia,  Zante  and  Ithaka  managed  to 
endure  till  1338. 

"  For  two  centuries  each  spring  and  summer  pro- 
duced a  stream  of  Crusaders  and  pilgrims "  and  many 
landed  in  Corfu  to  pay  their  reverence  at  the  famous 
shrine  of  Our  Lady  of  Kasoppa.  It  is  said  of  them 
that,  the  graceless  folk,  they  took  unlawful  toll  of  the 
island's  goods  too. 

Our  own  Richard  Lionheart  stayed  in  Corfu  some 
weeks  before  continuing  from  Ragusa  that  overland 
journey  home  which  the  Duke  of  Austria  so  summarily 
interrupted. 

The  earlier  Crusaders  had  endured  untold  sufferings, 

30 


Vetrano 

persecutions  and  extortions  in  their  overland  travels 
through  the  Balkan  peninsula.  Now  they  came  to 
Venice  for  transport.  And  the  great  day  of  Venice 
came  when  she,  imperious  dictator  of  the  Fourth 
Crusade,  took  for  her  spoils  the  keys  of  the  Levant, 
and  her  natural  sphere  of  commerce. 

For  some  years  previous  to  the  crusade  Corfu  had  been 
virtually  dominated  by  a  Genoese,  Vetrano,  described 
impartially  as  an  admiral  or  a  pirate — on  the  lines, 
presumably,  of  Kingsley's  theory  that  a  gamekeeper 
is  only  a  poacher  turned  inside  out,  and  a  poacher  a 
gamekeeper  turned  outside  in.  But  this  lord  of  a  rival 
city  can  hardly  have  been  at  home  when  the  Crusaders 
landed,  for  we  are  told  that  the  Corfiotes  received  them 
as  liberators,  gave  them  abundant  provision  and  the 
pasturage  which  was  so  necessary  for  their  horses  (how 
the  Crusaders  ever  got  their  horses  alive  to  the  Holy 
Land  is  a  marvel ! — they  took  4500  in  this  expedition), 
and  that  they  were  so  pleased  with  the  hospitality  and 
pleasant  quarters  that  their  stay  was  prolonged  for 
some  weeks. 

But  in  ease  and  idleness  the  disputes  of  this  much- 
divided  crusade  started  again  as  they  had  done  during 
the  previous  winter  in  Zara.  The  malcontents  with- 
drew to  a  secluded  valley  to  discuss  plans  of  secession. 
Their  bishops  and  chiefs  found  them,  and  only  by 
prostrating  themselves  with  tears  moved  these  dissatis- 
fied followers  to  continue  the  Crusade  in  some  sort 
of  unity. 

31 


The  Story  of  Corfu 


Corfu  was  the  meeting  place  for  the  whole  fleet  and 
Michaud  says,  "  The  historians  who  have  described 
its  progress  through  the  Archipelago,  so  full  of  remem- 
brances of  antiquity,  have  not  been  able  to  refrain  from 
employing  the  language  of  poetry. 

And  here  in  the  words  of  its  own  delightful  chronicler, 
Geoffrey  de  Villehardouin,  is  the  manner  of  its  depart- 
ing. It  was  Whitsun  Eve,  and  Geoffrey  "  bears  you 
witness  that  so  gallant  a  sight  was  never  seen.  Right 
surely  it  seemed  that  this  fleet  was  destined  to  conquer 
the  world,  for  so  far  as  the  eye  might  reach  was  naught 
to  see  but  the  sails  of  galleys  and  of  ships,  in  such  sort 
that  the  hearts  of  men  rejoiced  thereat." 

"  The  wind  was  favourable,  and  the  sky  pure  and 
serene,  a  profound  calm  reigned  over  the  waves ;  three 
hundred  vessels  of  all  sizes,  with  their  colours  floating 
from  their  stems,  covered  an  immense  space ;  the 
helmets  and  cuirasses  of  30,000  warriors  reflected  the 
rays  of  the  sun ;  now  were  heard  sounding  over  the 
waters  the  hymns  of  the  priests,  invoking  blessings  of 
Heaven,  and  then  the  voices  of  the  soldiers,  soothing 
the  leisure  of  the  voyage  with  martial  songs,  and  the 
braying  of  trumpets  and  neighing  of  horses,  mingled 
with  the  dashing  of  oars.  ..."  * 

Small  wonder  that  recruits  came  again  to  this  gallant 
armament  which  "  intended  to  conquer  kingdoms," 
and  to  these  men  who  "  feared  nothing  but  the  falling 
of  the  heavens." 

*  Michaud,  History  of  the  Crusades,  vol.  II.,  p.  77-80. 
32 


Michael  the   Despot 


When  in  1204  Constantinople  fell  to  the  allies,  led 
by  Baldwin,  the  spoil  of  Venice  was  "  a  quarter  and 
half  a  quarter  of  the  whole  empire  of  Romania,"  and 
the  ever-crafty  republic  managed  to  include  in  that 
share  Corfu,  as  well  as  most  of  the  trading  and  strategic 
points  in  Greece. 

This  early  allotment  of  Corfu  to  Venice  was,  however, 
like  much  of  the  partitioning  of  the  empire,  rather 
nominal  than  actual.  It  was  not  certain  whether 
Vetrano  was  actually  in  occupation  when  Venice 
arrived,  or  whether  the  island  was  nominally  under  the 
empire.  In  any  case  Venetian  and  Genoese  alternated 
several  times  as  masters  till  Venice  finally  defeated 
Vetrano  and  put  him  to  death. 

Finding  Corfu  still  too  troublesome  a  possession  for 
her  direct  government,  she  farmed  out  the  island,  for 
an  annual  payment  of  5CX)  gold  pieces,  to  ten  of  her 
nobles — a  common  fate  for  the  colonies  of  Venice. 
But  even  yet  Corfu  was  not  for  Venice,  for  in  12 10 
that  dominant  and  imscrupulous  despot,  Michael  of 
Epiros,  swept  from  the  east,  foimd  Corfu  a  wilHng 
conquest,  and  established  there  a  dynasty  which  lasted 
half  a  century. 

The  firm  rule  of  these  ruthless  but  capable  despots 
gave  a  breathing  space  to  the  harried  island  ;  while 
their  powerful  support  of  the  orthodox  church,  recog- 
nised by  them  as  the  strongest  bulwark  against  western 
invaders,  laid  the  foundations  of  privileges  which  out- 
lasted centuries  of  Angevin  and  Venetian  dominance. 

33  D 


The  Story  of  Corfu 


It  is  doubtless  due  chiefly  to  this  well-founded  and 
enduring  religious  body  that  the  national  feeling  and 
spirit  have  so  wonderfully  survived  every  foreign 
domination  and  kept  Corfu  Greek  at  heart  perpetually. 

As  dowry  of  the  beautiful  Helen,  daughter  of  despot 
Michael  II.,  Corfu,  with  its  dependencies  of  Butrinto, 
Suboto  and  Valona,  came  to  Manfred  von  Hohenstauf en 
of  Sicily  (c.  1258),  who  took  the  title  of  "  Lord  of 
Romania,"  and  allotted  to  his  governor  Fillipo 
Chinardo  the  task  of  reconciling  the  islanders  to  their 
western  ruler. 

Chinardo  continued  to  hold  his  authority  after  the 
tragic  end  of  the  Hohenstaufen  at  Benevento,  and  it 
seems  that  wily  Despot,  Michael  then  endeavoured  to 
secure  an  alliance  with  this  strong  man  Chinardo  by 
bestowing  on  him  the  hand  of  his  sister-in-law,  and 
Corfu,  as  a  dowry,  over  again,  since  its  legitimate 
possessor,  Helen,  was  irrecoverably  a  captive.* 

The  Despot's  aid  was  powerful  but  fickle ;  he  was 
soon  intriguing  against  Chinardo  in  Corfu,  and  the  pro- 
Latin  party  there  invited  against  him  the  help  of 
Charles  of  Anjou,  the  conqueror  of  Benevento.  As  the 
Emperor  Baldwin  also  needed  the  support  of  Charles, 
the  latter  was  confirmed  in  the  overlordship  of  Corfu, 
together  with  the  rest  of  poor  Helen's  dowry  in  Epiros, 
the  principality  of  Achaia,  and  many  of  the  islands. 

*  Helen's  end  was  tragic  beyond  most.  After  Benevento,  she  was 
imprisoned  with  her  daughter  and  three  sons  in  the  Castello  del  Parco, 
Nocera,  where  she  lingered  till  1271.  Her  wretched  children  then 
continued  their  living  death  in  the  Castel  del  Uova  at  Naples. 


34 


Roving  Adventurers 


A  very  handsome  bribe,  by  which  Corfu  passed  into 
Angevin  possession,  and  in  it  remained  for  over  a  cen- 
tury. 

By  1278  the  Angevin  was  dominant  in  Greece,  and 
he  granted  his  Achaian  principality,  and  with  it  Corfu, 
etc.,  to  Florent  d'Avesnes,  a  Fleming,  on  his  marriage 
with  Isabella,  Lady  of  the  Morea,  and  by  a  former 
marriage  daughter-in-law  of  himself. 

In  the  next  generation  Corfu  was  again  allied  to 
Epiros  when  Philip  of  Taranto,  son  of  Charles  II., 
married  the  Epirote  heiress  Thamar,  and  received  from 
his  father  Corfu,  Butrinto,  and  the  overlordship  of 
Achaia,  for  an  annual  payment  of  six  velvet  robes. 
Later  he  became  suzerain  of  all  the  Frankish  states  in 
Greece  and  ruled  Corfu  for  forty  years. 

Except  for  this  period  of  Philip's  wise  and  firm 
government,  we  do  not  find  that  her  high  connections 
with  the  paramount  chiefs  of  east  and  west  were  any 
guarantee  of  peace  and  security  to  Corfu.  There  are 
catalogues  of  the  pirates  of  different  breeds  who  plun- 
dered these  shores,  and  the  fear  of  them  even  de- 
populated some  of  the  islands.  Roger  de  Lluria,  a 
famous  pirate-admiral  of  James  of  Aragon,  appeared 
in  Greek  waters  in  1292,  ravaging  Greek  and  Frank 
impartially,  and  dealing  particularly  thoroughly  with 
the  Angevin  possessions  such  as  Corfu,  for  the  Angevin 
power  had  waned  after  the  "  Sicilian  vespers." 

The  Catalan  grand  company,  a  vast  band  of  mercenary 
adventurers  bound  for  Constantinople  (and  incidentally 

35  D2 


The   Story  of  Corfu 


the  conquest  of  Boetia  and  the  Morea)  devastated  this 
fair  island  of  their  former  masters,  the  Angevins ;  while 
in  these  centuries,  the  schism  of  1053  and  the  jealous 
Romanism  of  the  Angevin  conquerors  put  bitterer 
feeling  into  all  strife  of  east  and  west,  into  the  re- 
lationship of  conquered  and  conqueror. 

Corfu  suffered,  like  the  rest  of  Greece,  from  genera- 
tions of  free-lances,  for  hy  1377  the  Navarrese  (Aragon) 
company  was  superseding  the  Catalan  as  dominant  mili- 
tary power  of  Greece.  They  made  friends  with  the  Ven- 
etian colonies  there  and  became  masters  of  the  Morea. 

Frankly  inspired  by  acquisitiveness,  these  roving 
hordes  of  adventurers  must  have  been  worse  to  bear 
than  the  Crusaders  ;  for  with  all  the  faults  of  the  latter 
their  first  aim  was  high  and  disinterested  and  must 
have  drawn  in  a  leaven  of  many  noble  spirits.  It  is 
difficult  to  imagine  the  condition  of  an  often  mastered 
land,  such  as  Greece,  abandoned  to  these  organised 
robber  rulers,  and  the  offshoots  of  rebel  robbers  they 
would  leave  on  their  trail. 

The  empire  of  Romania  was  now  being  straitly 
hemmed  in  between  advancing  Turks,  the  great 
kingdom  of  Servia,  and  the  western  invaders.  Greece 
proper  had  for  long  been  hardly  more  than  a  shifting 
agglomeration  of  Prankish  estates,  held  by  personal 
prowess,  and  with  little  unity  or  political  importance. 
The  time  was  coming  for  these  broken  fragments  of 
empire  to  be  remodelled  under  the  hands  of  the 
Mussulman. 

36 


Venetian  and  Turk 


Meanwhile,  in  1380,  the  Navarrese  Company 
took  Corfu  from  the  Angevins  on  behalf  of 
Jacques  de  Baux,  titular  Emperor  of  Romania  and  a 
nephew  of  Philip  II.  of  Taranto.  In  1381,  Corfiote 
leaders  arose  against  the  Navarrese  officers  and 
offered  submission  to  Charles  III.  of  Naples,  a 
safer  overlord  for  these  dangerous  times.  The 
Corfiotes  must  have  been  weary  of  changing  lords 
and  of  suffering  their  deputies,  and  of  the  weak 
intervals  when  pirates  ravaged. 

In  1386,  the  "Captain  of  the  Gulf,"  chief  of  the 
Adriatic  fleet  of  Venice,  took  peaceful  possession  of 
Corfu,  with  the  acquiescence  of  its  leading  inhabitants ; 
and  so  the  island  passed  to  the  protection  of  the  only 
navy  capable  of  withstanding  the  Turk,  and  became  one 
of  the  long  chain  of  Venetian  pickets  running  through 
the  Levant  to  Constantinople. 

At  this  period  a  very  large  proportion  of  the  trade 
of  Constantinople  was  in  the  hands  of  Venice,  and  she 
was  determined  to  keep  an  open  road  to  her  greatest 
mart.  Even  after  Lepanto  (1571)  the  merchant 
republic  signed  treaties  with  the  detested  Turk,  for 
continued  trading  rights.  As  Molmenti  writes,  with 
Venice,  "  economic  policy  takes  the  place  of  poUtical 
economy."  * 

By  1400  the  Turks  were  wasting  the  European  lands 
of  Romania.  In  the  north  the  Servian  empire  was 
crumbling  before  them,  till  a  century  later  they  ruled 

♦  Venice,  I.,  145. 

Z7 


The  Story  of  Corfu 


to  the  Danube,  with  a  vast  tributary  domain  beyond  ; 
southward  they  were  reaching  to  the  North  African 
States  by  way  of  Syria  and  Egypt.  In  1453 
they  held  the  heart  of  the  Empire ;  by  1460  they 
held  the  Peloponnesus.  Later,  Otranto  was  in  their 
hands.  It  was  indeed  just  in  time  that  Corfu  came  to 
Venice. 

The  bold  minds  and  adventurous  swords  of  western 
Europe  were  no  longer  set  on  carving  kingdoms  from 
the  east :  the  Mussulmans  were  forestalling  them  there. 
Besides,  Europe  in  general  was  absorbing  its  venturous 
manhood  in  wars  of  its  own,  or  seeking  southwards 
and  westwards  for  new  conquests  and  trade  routes  by 
sea  to  replace  those  seized  or  sundered  by  the  widening 
barrier  of  the  Turks  in  the  east.  Therefore  Europe's 
interest  in  the  great  Levantine  struggle  was  remote 
and  of  little  practical  help. 

Alone  except  for  Hungary,  Venice,  the  sea-bride 
and  sea-supported,  held  for  her  life  the  Turks  in  check 
with  a  fringe  of  desperately  contested  forts.  And 
great  among  these  forlorn  hopes  of  Christendom  stood 
Corfu,  ancient  in  strife. 

The  rule  of  the  Venetians  in  Corfu  has  been  variously 
described  as  a  ruthless  domination  of  a  hapless  people, 
and  a  wise  policy  of  development  and  gradual  concession. 
Whatever  their  methods,  it  is  certain  that  their  pro- 
tection was  then  necessary  to  the  island — and  the  island 
necessary  to  Christendom. 

As,  century  by  centur}--,  the  other  great  Christian 

38 


Venetian  Rule 


strongholds  fell  to  the  Turks,*  Corfu  stood,  a  firm  and 
solitary  outpost  in  the  west ;  and  against  its  rocks  the 
Turks  hurled  their  last  effort  at  conquest  in  Christian 
lands. 

Their  first  attempt  to  take  Corfu  was  in  1430,  and 
their  repulse  then  kept  them  from  any  serious  assault 
until  the  famous  siege  of  I537.t  It  was  shortly  before 
this  siege  that  the  town,  till  then  unwalled,  quarried 
ruthlessly  in  Palaeopolis  for  its  materials  of  defence  : 
a  precedent  for  conduct  that  has  left  Corfu  an  archaeo- 
logical blank.  But  in  the  story  of  the  siege  is  found 
ample  excuse  for  any  means  of  defence  that  came  to 
hand. 

This  siege  of  Corfu  is  but  a  page  in  the  savage  story 
of  Cross  and  Crescent  in  the  Mediterranean.  A  hideous 
persecution  of  the  Moors  was  disgracing  Spain,  who 
armed  also  against  the  eastern  Turks  for  the  fateful 
battle  of  Lepanto,  and  sent  a  grudging  support  to  Malta. 
The  Levantine  forts  each  had  their  great  sieges  and 
were  in  constant  strife  at  the  Turkish  frontiers.  Before 
Lepanto,  the  Turks  with  200  sail  devastated  Corfu  and 
the  Dalmatian  coast.  The  French  joined  the  Turks 
against  Spain  in  Sicily,  1553.  Such  continuous 
presence  of  enmity  and  bloodshed  is  barely  apprehen- 
sible by  a  modern  mind.  The  fierce  rivalries  of  cities, 
their  intrigues  and  treacheries  ;  the  straying  companies 

•  Negropont  in  1468,  Lepanto  1499,  Cephalonia,  Modon,  Corons 
Nauplia  and  Navarino  1500,  Durazzo  1502,  Monemvasia  (the  last  holds 
of  Venice  in  the  Morea)  1540,  Cyprus  1580,  Candia  1669. 

t  See  page  144. 

39 


The  Story  of  Corfu 


of  soldiers  disbanded  from  the  many  wars ;  the  armies 
of  mercenaries  ;  *  the  universal  piracy.  At  some 
periods  of  the  middle  ages  it  is  a  marvel  how  anything 
but  war  ever  got  done.  How  anything  was  sown  or 
grown,  with  serfs  Hable  to  eight  months'  military  ser- 
vice in  the  year,  from  the  ages  of  i6  to  60  ;  how  trade 
could  exist  and  find  materials  for  existence  amid  the 
constant  bloodshed  and  raids  and  excursions !  Yet 
in  these  centuries  that  are  riddled  with  wars  and  sieges, 
and  scarred  with  piracies,  even  Venice,  the  warden, 
found  life  more  than  just  worth  living,  produced  and 
enjoyed  an  unrivalled  opulence  of  art,  and  grew  even 
too  rich  for  her  absolute  health — too  rich  at  the  last 
to  seek  her  trade  in  the  younger  west  :  when  the 
Turks  barred  her  accustomed  routes  she  fell  to  idle  ways 
and  an  end  of  shame. 

In  that  learned  and  delightful  book.  The  Latins  in 
the  Levant,  Mr.  Miller  has  collected  a  vivid  and  inter_ 
esting  account  of  the  condition  of  Corfu  in  Angevin  and 
early  Venetian  years.     Feudal  service  and  usages  were 

*  Roger  de  Flor,  most  popular  of  the  Catalan  chiefs,  sailed  from 
Messina  for  the  East  with  i8  galleys,  four  great  ships,  8000  adventurers, 
or,  as  some  say,  6500,  thus :  1500  men-at-arms,  4000  Amogavares, 
1000  other  foot  soldiers,  but  this  is  not  reckoning  sailors. 

"Venetian,  Catalan  and  Turkish  corsairs  cruised  in  all  the  seas  of 
Greece,  carrying  off  the  defenceless  inhabitants  to  sell  them  as  slaves. 
Some,  in  their  eagerness  for  booty,  paid  very  little  attention  to  inquire 
who  was  sovereign  of  the  country  if  plunder  could  be  carried  off  with 
impunity.  The  Venetian  Government  excited  the  activity  of  its  mercenary 
troops  by  granting  them  two-thirds  of  all  the  booty  collected,  and  by 
establishing  regular  sales  by  auction  of  the  captives  brought  into  the 
camp,  paying  the  soldiers  three  ducats  a-head  for  each  prisoner." — 
Finlay,  v.,  63. 

40 


Venetian   Rule 


grafted  wholesale  on  to  Greece  by  the  Franks,  and  the 
elaborate  system  of  its  vassalage,  the  privileges  of 
the  barons,  and  of  the  church,  who  stood  so  stoutly 
to  their  rights,  are  all  chronicled  for  us  with 
graphic  and  appreciative  pen.  We  read  of  Isabella  of 
Valois  and  other  noble  Prankish  dames  on  whom 
the  constant  slayings  thrust  the  leadership  in 
rough  times ;  and  we  learn  that  Greece  acquired 
chivalry  as  well  as  feudal  usages,  and  learned  to 
fight  too,  under  its  fighting  rulers ;  and  there  is  the 
touching  story  of  one  of  these  rulers  who  rode  into 
battle  with  his  standard  tied  to  his  hand,  for  he  had 
gout. 

It  is  probable  that  Venice  meant  to  do  well  by  Corfu. 
It  is  certain  that  she  could  not  afford  to  offend  its 
inhabitants  with  the  Turks  at  her  doors.  But  Venetian 
policy  was  always  for  Venice,  and  colonies  and  allies 
might  suffer  any  hardships  if  the  Queen  went  unharmed. 
The  Greek  colonies  suffered  more  than  a  little :  Corfu,  as 
as  head,  probably  less  than  the  others.  She  was  the  seat 
of  the  colonial  governor — "Proweditore  del  Levant" — 
and  of  other  high  officials ;  petitions  of  rights  had  a 
chance  of  fair  hearing  and  of  arriving  at  the  home 
government.  The  Corfiotes  seem  to  have  been  fairly 
treated  on  the  whole  by  all  their  rulers,  and  both  Philip 
of  Taranto  and  the  Venetians  were  wise  enough  to 
encourage  the  natural  resources  of  the  country.  But 
the  short-sighted  egoism  of  Venice  counteracted  her 
good  intentions  in  this  respect.     She  prevented  educa- 

41 


The  Story  of  Corfu 


tion  or  made  it  a  farce.*  She  divorced  the  gentry 
from  their  estates  by  forbidding  them  all  trade  and 
obliging  them  to  reside  in  town  if  they  wished  for  the 
small  share  of  government  allowed  them.  So  though 
the  Venetian  dower  of  olive-trees  tells  a  tale  of  fore- 
sight (for  the  Venetians  gave  lo  gold  pieces  for  every 
grove  of  100  olive-trees  planted,  till  it  is  said,  there 
were  2,000,000  trees  before  they  left  the  island),  the 
neglected  estates,  tended  by  undirected  peasants,  the 
aimless  town  life  of  the  gentry,  and  the  consequent 
stagnation  of  the  once  vigorous  island  attest  to  a  lack 
of  finer  vision  in  the  masters  of  Corfu. 

Little  except  the  soil  seems  to  have  received  any 
cultivation  or  development  in  Venetian  times.  Small 
share  of  either  fell  to  the  inhabitants  for  all  their 
400  years  of  affiliation  with  the  great  republic.  The 
people  were  humoured  when  possible  :  the  gentry 
were  kept  loyal  by  a  share  in  naval  leadership,t  or  docile 
by  honours  and  small  place-holding.  But  with  no 
worthy  equivalent  the  latter  were  taken  from  their 
natural  life  and  leadership.  And  they  have  not  yet 
found  their  way  back  to  it. 

But  nature  made  Corfu  fertile  in  spite  of  all 
men's  deeds,  and  it  only  needed  the  British  rule  to 
start  the  island  into  a  fair  prosperity. 

*  Corfiotes  at  Italian  Universities  were  encouraged  to  take  their 
degrees  without  studying  for  them  !  while  there  were  hardly  any  schools 
on  the  island. 

t  The  Corfiotes  shared  in  the  war  of  Venice  against  the  Turks  in  the 
Morea,  1463,  &c.,  and  along  the  coast,  and  even  took  vigorous  part  in 
the  purely  Italian  wars  of  Venice. 

42 


Lithgow's  Impressions 

Before  we  come  to  modern  days,  however,  I  would 
like  you  to  read  how  Venetian  Corfu  struck  a  con- 
temporary. 

Lithgow's  Rare  Adventures  was  published  in  1632 ; 
its  ample,  leisurely  spelling  and  sober  pace  give  to 
our  modern  English  a  clipped  and  undignified  appear- 
ance ;  and  though  Lithgow  is  a  little  careless  in 
detail — some  one  has  dragged  in  "  Corsican,"  and 
the  fortress  rock  is  not  a  mountain,  seen  even  from 
the  smallest  boat — I  think  it  would  be  hard  to  improve 
on  his  candid  record  ;  while  his  vocabulary  is  a  sheer 
joy:— 

"  The  He  Corfu.  .  .  .  and  upon  the  sixt  day  after 
our  departure  from  Ragusa,  we  arrived  at  Corfu. 

"  Corfu  is  an  island  no  less  beautifull  than  invincible  : 
It  Heth  in  the  Sea  lonean,  the  Inhabitants  are  Greekes, 
and  the  Governours  Venetians  :  This  He  was  much 
honoured  by  Homer,  for  the  pleasant  Gardens  of 
Alcino,  which  were  in  his  time.  This  Alcino  was  that 
Corcyrian  Poet,  who  so  benignely  received  Ulysses  after 
his  ship  wracke,  and  of  whom  Ovid  said, 

Quid  bifera  Alcinoi  referam  pomaria  ?   vos  que. 
Qui  nunquam  vacui  prodistis  in  aethere  rami. 

Why  blaze  I  forth,  Alkinoe's  fertile  soyle. 

And  trees,  from  whence,  all  times  they  fruit  recoyle. 

"  This  He  was  given  to  the  Venetians  by  the  Corsi- 
cans,  Anno  1382,  because  they  were  exposed  to  all  the 

43 


The  Story  of  Corfu 


injuries  in  the  world  :    It  lieth  like  to  a  halfe  moone, 
or  half  a  circle  East  and  North.  .  .  . 

"  The  City  Corfu,  from  which  the  He  has  its  name, 
is  situate  at  the  foote  of  a  Mountain  whereupon  are 
builded  two  strong  Fortresses,  and  invironed  with  a 
Rocke  :  The  one  is  called  the  Fortezza  Nova,  and  the 
other  the  Fortezza  Vecchia.  They  are  well  governed, 
and  circumspectly  kept,  lest  by  the  instigation  of  the 
one  Captaine  the  other  should  commit  any  treasonable 
effect.  And  for  the  same  purpose,  the  Governours  of 
both  Castles,  at  their  election  before  the  Senatours  of 
Venice  are  sworne ;  neither  privately,  nor  openly  to 
have  mutual  conference ;  nor  to  write  to  another,  for 
the  space  of  two  yeares,  which  is  the  time  of  their 
government. 

"  These  Castles  are  inaccessable,  and  unconquerable, 
if  that  the  Keepers  be  loyall,  and  provided  with 
naturall  and  martiall  furniture.  They  are  vulgarly 
called.  The  Forts  of  Christendome,  by  the  Greekes ; 
but  more  justly.  The  Strength  of  Venice  :  for  if  these 
forts  were  taken  by  the  Turkes,  or  by  the  Spanyard 
who  would  so  gladly  have  them,  the  trade  of  the 
Venetian  Merchants  would  be  of  none  account ;  yea 
the  very  meane  to  overthrow  Venice  it  selfe." 

Even  nicer  is  the  account  of  adventures  which  follow 
Mr.  Lithgow's  departure  from  Corfu.  He  passes 
Sta.  Maura — uninhabited  save  for  Jews  expelled  from 
Spain,  and  soon  after  Cephalonia  and  Ithaka  are  left 

44 


Lithgow's   Impressions 

behind,  we  may  learn  from  him  what  globe-trotting 
was  like  in  those  days  (1609). 

"  In  this  meane  while  of  our  navigable  passage,  The 
Captaine  of  the  vessell  espied  a  Saile  coming  from  Sea, 
he  presently  being  moved  therewith,  sent  a  Mariner 
to  the  toppe,  who  certified  him  she  was  a  Turkish 
Galley  of  Biserta,  prosecuting  a  straight  course  to 
invade  our  Barke. 

"Which  sudden  affrighting  newes  overwhelmed  us 
ahnost  in  despare.  Resolution  being  by  the  amazed 
Maister  demaunded  of  every  man  what  was  best  to  doe, 
some  replyed  one  way,  and  some  another  :  Insomuch, 
that  the  most  part  of  the  passengers  gave  counsell, 
rather  to  render,  than  to  fight ;  being  confident,  their 
friends  would  pay  their  ransome,  and  so  relieve  them. 
But  I  the  wandering  Pilgrime,  pondering  in  my  pensive 
breast,  my  solitary  estate,  the  distance  of  my  country 
and  my  friends,  could  conceive  no  hope  of  deUverance. 
Upon  the  which  troublesome  and  fearefull  appearance 
of  slavery,  I  absolutely  arose,  and  spoke  to  the  Maister, 
saying  :  The  half  of  the  Carmosalo  is  your  owne,  and 
the  most  part  also  of  the  loading  (all  of  which  he  had 
told  me  before)  wherefore  my  counsell  is,  that  you 
prepare  your  selfe  to  fight,  and  go  encourage  your 
passengers,  promise  to  your  Mariners  double  wages, 
make  ready  your  two  peeces  of  Ordonance,  your  Muskets, 
Powder,  Lead  and  half-Pikes  :  for  who  knoweth,  but 
the  Lord  may  deliver  us  from  the  thraldome  of  these 
Infidels.     My    exhortation    ended,    he    was    greatly 

45 


The  Story  of  Corfu 


animated  therewith,  and  gave  me  thanks ;  whereupon 
assembling  the  passengers  and  mariners,  he  gave  good 
comfort,  and  large  promises  to  them  all :  So  that  their 
affrighted  hopes  were  converted  to  a  couragious 
resolution  :  ...  So  they  all  set  to  work  to  make 
ready,  each  at  the  work  and  place  assigned  him  by  the 
Master,  and  the  dexterous  courage  of  all  men  was  so 
forward  to  defend  their  lives  and  liberty  that  truly 
in  mine  opinion  we  seemed  thrice  as  many  as  we  were. 
.  .  .  We  recommended  our  selves  in  the  hands  of  the 
Almighty :  and  in  the  meane  while  awaited  their 
fiery  salutations. 

"In  a  furious  spleene,  the  first  Hola  of  their  courtesies, 
was  the  progresse  of  a  martiall  conflict,  thundring  forth 
a  terrible  noise  of  Galley-roaring  peeces.  And  we  in 
a  sad  reply,  sent  out  a  backe-sounding  eccho  of  fiery 
flying  shots  :  which  made  an  aequivox  to  the  clouds, 
rebounding  backward  in  our  perturbed  breasts  the 
ambiguous  sounds  of  feare  and  hope.  After  a  long 
and  doubtfull  fight,  both  with  great  and  small  shot 
(night  parting  us)  the  Turkes  retired  till  morning,  and 
then  were  mindfull  to  give  us  the  new  rancounter  of  a 
second  alarum. 

"  But  as  it  pleased  him,  who  never  faileth  his,  to  send 
down  an  unresistable  tempest ;  about  the  breake  of 
day  we  escaped  their  furious  designes ;  and  were  en- 
forced to  seeke  into  the  bay  of  Largostolo  in  Cepha- 
lonia  ;  both  because  of  the  violent  weather,  and  also 
for  that  a  great  Lake  was  stricken  into  our  ship." 

46 


Lithgow's   Impressions 

It  is  all  so  simple,  and  so  revealing  ! 

Lithgow  was  a  Scot,  as  dialect  and  character  attest. 
He  was  travelling  abroad  because  of  some  difficulty 
about  a  blood  feud,  I  think.  After  this  rancounter  he 
had  had  enough  of  the  sea  ;  besides,  they  had  been 
obliged  to  beach  the  ship  because  of  the  great  lake  in 
her,  so  he  decided  to  travel  overland.  And  now  we 
learn  what  were  the  chances  of  the  road  ;  see,  too,  the 
haggard  desolation  of  what  was  Greece  ;  and  thereon 
receive  gravely  the  epitomised  moralising  of  our  tra- 
veller : 

"  After  my  arrival  in  Peterasso,  the  Metropolitan  of 
Peloponnesus,  I  left  the  turmoyling  dangers  of  the 
intricated  lies,  of  the  lonean  and  Adriaticall  seas,  and 
advised  to  travell  in  the  firme  land  of  Greece,  with  a 
caravan  of  Greekes  that  was  bound  for  Athens.  .  .  . 
But  before  the  aforesayd  Caravan  of  Peterasso  admitted 
me  into  his  company  he  was  wonderfuU  inquisitive,  to 
know  for  what  cause  I  travelled  alone  ?  &  of  what 
Nation  I  was  ?  To  whom  I  soberly  excused,  and  dis- 
covered my  selfe  with  modest  answers,  which  pacified 
his  curiosity  ;  but  not  his  avaritious  minde  :  for  under 
a  pretended  protection  he  had  of  me,  he  extorted  the 
most  part  of  my  money  from  my  purse,  without  any 
regard  of  conscience. 

"  In  the  Desart  way,  I  beheld  many  singular  Monu- 
ments, and  ruinous  Castles,  whose  names  I  knew  not, 
because  I  had  an  ignorant  guide.    But  this  I  remember, 

47 


The  Story  of  Corfu 


amongst  those  rockes  my  belly  was  pinched,  and  wearied 
was  my  body,  with  the  climbing  of  fastidious  moun- 
taines,  which  bred  no  small  griefe  to  my  breast.  Yet 
not  withstanding  of  my  distresse,  the  rememberance  of 
those  sweet  seasoned  Songs  of  Arcadian  Sheepherds 
which  pregnant  Poets  have  so  well  penned,  did  recreate 
my  fatigued  corps  with  many  sugred  suppositions.  .  .  . 

"  In  all  that  country  of  Greece  I  could  find  nothing, 
to  answer  the  famous  relations,  given  by  ancient  Authors 
of  the  excellency  of  that  land,  but  the  name  onely ; 
the  barbarousnesse  of  Turkes  and  Time,  having  defaced 
all  the  Monuments  of  Antiquity.  No  shew  of  honour, 
no  habitation  of  men  in  an  honest  fashion,  nor  posses- 
sours  of  the  Countrey  in  a  Principality.  But  rather 
prisoners  shut  up  in  prisons,  or  addicted  slaves  to  crude 
and  tyrannical  Maisters  :  So  deformed  is  the  State  of 
that  once  worthy  Realme,  and  so  miserable  is  the 
burthen  of  that  afflicted  people  :  which,  and  the  ap- 
parence  of  that  permanency,  grieved  my  heart  to  behold 
the  sinister  working  of  blind  Fortune,  which  alwayes 
plungeth  the  most  renowned  Champions,  and  their 
memory,  in  the  profoundest  pit  of  all  extremities  and 
oblivion."* 

So  Lithgow  passed  on  his  distressful  way ;  and  he 
is  out  of  the  story,  as  the  sagas  say. 

Fynes  Morison,  fellow  of  Peterhouse,  wrote  an  Itine- 
rary of  Travels  in  1596,  and  his  details  complete  the 
picture  of  sixteenth-century  Corfu. 

*  Lithgow's  Rare  Adventures^  p.  52  et  seq  : 
48 


Lithgow's  Impressions 


"  From  my  tender  youth,  I  had  a  great  desire  to  see 
forrain  countries,"  said  he.  And  as  a  young  man 
he  achieved  his  desire. 

"  On  Sunday  the  5  th  of  May  we  did  see  the  Moun- 
taine  Fanon,  (and  as  I  remember  an  Hand)  three  miles 
distant  from  the  Hand  Corfu,  and  upon  the  Greeke 
shoare  beyond  the  Hand,  we  did  see  the  most  high 
Mountains  called  Chimerae,  inhabited  by  the  Albanesi, 
who  neither  subject  to  the  Turks  nor  Venetians,  nor 
any  other,  doe  upon  occasion  rob  all ;  and  the  Vene- 
tians, and  the  Kings  of  France,  and  especially  of  Spaine, 
use  to  hire  them  in  their  warres. 

"  This  Hand  Corfu  inhabited  by  Greekes  is  very  fer- 
tile, yielding  plenty  of  fruites,  corne,  wines,  currands, 
and  this  Haven  is  fortified  with  two  Forts  cut  out  off  a 
Rocke,  namely,  the  old  and  the  new  Fort  (which  is  more 
than  a  mile  in  circuit),  both  being  very  strong  and  held 
unexpugnable,  so  as  the  Hand  is  worthily  reputed  one 
of  the  chife  Keyes  of  Christendome."  * 

After  these  two  gentlemen  I  have  little  more  to  say 
of  Corfu  in  the  middle  ages. 

In  the  years  that  followed  Lepanto,  Venice  and 
Constantinople  remained  at  peace  till  about  1635-45, 
when  the  unabashed  piracies  of  the  Knights  of  Malta 
made  excuse  for  the  breaking  of  treaties. 

Venice  was  again  left  alone  to  defend  1500  miles  of 
sea  frontiers  against  the  Turk,  and  though  declining 

•  Fynes  Morison's  Itinerary,  I.,  455  and  II.,  110. 

49  E 


The  Story  of  Corfu 


in  power  and  energy  roused  herself  to  her  old  valour 
for  the  splendid  defence  of  Candia.  The  neglected 
defences  of  Corfu  and  Dalmatia  were  renewed  about 
same  time ;  for  the  Turks,  though  their  territory  was 
shrinking,  were  still  formidable  foes,  perhaps  more 
desperate  in  the  south  now  that  Hungary  pressed  so 
hard  on  their  northern  frontiers ;  and  from  1600 
Venice  held  in  Greece  only  a  few  of  the  islands,  with 
Corfu  their  only  "  unexpugnable  "  defence. 

In  1716  the  Turks  attacked  Corfu  in  force  and  both 
Venetians  and  Corfiotes  gained  glory  in  its  defence  : 
successful,  under  one  of  Prince  Eugene's  officers, 
Marshall  Schulemberg.  Finlay  says,  "  It  was  the  last 
glorious  military  exploit  of  the  republic,  and  it  was 
achieved  by  a  German  mercenary  soldier.*  Both 
Venice  and  the  Turks  had  passed  their  prime  ;  world- 
power  was  making  another  step  westward.  The  place 
of  Corfu  was  no  longer  in  the  centre  but  on  the  fringe 
of  the  battle,  and  very  soon  she  was  laid  aside  from  it 
altogether. 

Ill 

MODERN    CORFU 

When  in  1796  young  General  Buonaparte  led  a  ragged 
invincible  army  through  north  Italy,  his  vision  was  al- 
ready of  greater  conquests.  His  pitiless  betrayal  of 
Venice  to  Austria  was  the  price  of  Austria's  acquiescence 

*  Finlay,  V.,  277.     For  account  of  siege  see  page  149. 
50 


Modern  Corfu 


to  France  in  Corfu,  and  that  the  necessary  prelude  to 
French  power  in  the  Mediterranean. 

For  Napoleon,  like  all  preceding  conquerors,  saw  in 
Corfu  his  first  step  to  the  east.  To  Egypt,  and  an 
empire  beyond,  that  should  rival  Britain. 

In  his  diary  he  writes,  "  Venice  must  fall  to  those  to 
whom  we  give  the  Italian  continent,  but  meanwhile 
we  will  take  its  vessels,  strip  its  arsenal,  destroy  its  bank, 
and  keep  Corfu  and  Ancona."  And  again  :  "  With 
Malta  and  Corfu  we  should  soon  be  masters  of  the 
Mediterranean,"  and  "  Venice  shall  pay  the  expenses 
of  the  war." 

Alas,  poor  bartered  Queen  and  protector  of  the 
Isles.     She  paid  in  shame  and  bitterness. 

And  when  they  sacked  her  arsenal,  it  furnished  out 
only  two  64-gun  ships  and  a  few  frigates.  The  rest 
of  her  once  great  navy  was  found  unfit  for  sea. 
So  Corfu  passed  to  a  newer  naval  power,  one  with 
all  the  will,  but,  as  it  proved,  short  capacity  for 
holding  her. 

"  I  think,"  wrote  Napoleon  to  Talleyrand,  "  that 
henceforth  the  chief  maxim  of  the  French  Republic 
should  be  never  to  give  up  Corfu,  Zante,  etc.  On  the 
other  hand  we  shall  find  these  immense  resources  for 
commerce,  and  they  will  be  of  great  interest  for  me  in 
the  future  movements  of  Europe  ...  if  we  are  obliged 
to  cede  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  (to  the  English)  we 
ought  to  take  possession  of  Egypt." 

In  the  next  year  Napoleon  met  Nelson  at  the  Nile, 

51  E2 


The  Story  of  Corfu 


and  learned  that  his  way  to  an  eastern  empire  was  not 
to  be  through  Egypt. 

The  Turks,  alarmed  by  his  aggressions  there,  had 
coalesced  with  Russia,  and  their  combined  fleets 
established  a  rigorous  blockade  of  Corfu,  where  they 
soon  ejected  the  sparse  French  garrison,  and  by  an- 
nexing the  island  struck  a  severe  blow  at  French  power 
at  a  time  when  their  losses  were  heavy  in  Italy,  and  just 
after  their  defeat  at  Aboukir. 

The  jealousies  of  the  two  new  masters  of  Corfu  were 
too  acute  for  any  united  government,  however.  So 
Corfu  and  her  sister  isles  were  made  into  a  separate 
state,  under  the  joint  suzerainty  of  Czar  and  Sultan, 
and  with  the  title  of  Sept-insular  Republic. 

But  though  the  French  rule  may  have  been  a  "  hard 
and  disgraceful  slavery,"  the  home  rule  seems  to  have 
been  decidedly  worse  ;  for  within  two  years  each  island 
had  been  guilty  of  treason  and  rebellion  against  the 
central  government,  and  local  maladministration  and 
anarchy  had  grown  to  such  an  extent  that  in  Zante 
alone,  with  a  population  of  less  than  40,000  there  was 
an  average  of  one  assassination  per  day.  The  principal 
islanders  thereupon  sent  to  the  Czar  a  request  for 
new  and  more  efficacious  form  of  government,  which 
in  due  course  was  deHvered  to  them  in  1803.  In  1804 
the  greater  ambitions  of  France  roused  Russia  to  send 
a  fleet  and  a  fair-sized  army  to  garrison  Corfu ;  but 
war  was  not  made  then,  and  the  Republic  continued 
until  1807. 

52 


Jealousies 


In  that  year  the  Sept-insular  Republic  expired  by 
absorption  into  the  French  Empire.  Taken  by  the 
Treaty  of  Tilsit,  together  with  Albania,  Epiros, 
Thessaly,  Attica,  the  Morea,  Bosina,  Candia,  Mace- 
donia, Dalmatia,  and  Malta,  as  the  nucleus  for  a  second 
attempt  at  eastern  conquest.  For  this  Napoleon's 
plans  were  all  ready,  and  the  very  day  after  signing 
the  treaty  he  issued  directions  for  the  massing  of  two 
armies  in  Italy,  to  be  poured  into  the  Balkan  peninsula, 
one  by  way  of  Cattaro,  the  other  from  Corfu,  on  their 
way  to  the  long  projected  Persian  conquest.  Writing 
to  Marmont  on  August  24th,  Napoleon  says,  "  Under- 
stand this,  however,  that  in  the  present  posture  of 
affairs,  the  loss  of  Corfu  would  be  the  greatest  misfor- 
tune which  could  befall  the  empire."  But  Corfu 
was  destined,  in  the  end,  to  be  of  no  importance  to 
Napoleon,  for  the  projected  expedition  was  checked 
by  a  Russo-Turkish  alliance,  while  Napoleon's  attention 
was  drawn  away  to  the  Spanish  war,  and  two  years 
later  all  the  islands  but  Corfu  and  Paxos  were  peacefully 
"  captured "  by  a  British  expedition  under  Lord 
Collingwood. 

Paxos  fell  to  us  in  1814,  and  only  the  large  garrison 
in  Corfu  held  out  another  year.  The  town  was  strictly 
blockaded  until  the  fall  of  Napoleon,  when  the  Bourbons 
directed  its  restoration  to  the  British. 

In  1 8 15,  the  powers,  by  the  Treaty  of  Paris,  made  of 
the  Ionian  Islands  a  free  and  independent  state  under 
the  sole  protection  of  Britain.     The  command  of  "  the 

53 


The  Story  of  Corfu 

finest  harbour  and  the  strongest  fortress  in  the  Adriatic" 
had  once  more  passed  into  the  hands  of  the  first  naval 
power,  and  the  little  island  had  peace  at  last. 

The  usual  results  of  British  rule  followed  in  the 
islands,  order  and  prosperity,  discipline  and  freedom 
were  extracted  from  chaos,  and  a  period  of  tranquillity 
and  development  commenced. 

Sir  Thomas  Maitland  was  the  first  Lord  High 
Commissioner,  and  proved  both  popular  and  capable. 
He  was  authorised  to  summon  a  constitutional  assembly, 
and  constructed  a  very  admirable  charter,  which  was 
accepted  in  1 8 1 7.  By  this  the  island  gradually  expanded 
to  a  great  proportion  of  self-government,  and  under  it 
enjoyed  unparalleled  prosperity.  Justice  was  reliable 
and  uncorrupt.  Taxation  was  light,  chiefly  in  custom 
dues.     Life  and  property  were  secure. 

The  islanders  were  treated  with  a  consideration 
which  must  have  been  new  to  them  after  those  turbulent 
revolutionary  years,  when  it  was  hard  to  tell  who  was 
their  master,  and  when  mastery  was  only  for  profit  and 
spoil. 

Education  was  provided  for  all  classes,  from  primary 
schools  in  the  villages  to  the  Lyceum  and  Gymnasium 
in  town.  The  Earl  of  Guildford  founded  the  Uni- 
versity of  Corfu  in  1823,  but  since  the  union  with 
Greece  it  has  ceased  to  exist. 

Material  development  naturally  went  hand  in  hand 
with  education.  Excellent  roads  spread  over  the 
islands ;    harbours,  quays  and  aqueducts  encouraged 

54 


-fN 


Under  English  Rule 


a  vigorous  growth  of  trade  and  industries  ;  while  the 
large  British  garrison  brought  fresh  life  into  the  capital. 

It  is  said  that  after  the  reform  of  the  Charter  by- 
Lord  Seaton  in  1848-9  the  machinery  of  government 
did  not  work  so  smoothly  as  before. 

The  peasants  were  not  ready  for  the  very  extended 
suffrage  and  were  unable  to  grasp  in  their  true  pro- 
portions the  statements  of  the  now  unfettered  press. 
In  the  same  year  in  which  their  liberties  were  extended 
there  was  a  rebellion  in  Zante  ;  and  again  in  the  year 
following,  notable  for  its  savagery. 

It  was  in  that  first  rebellion  that  the  insurgents  were 
held  at  bay  at  the  garrison  of  Argostoli,  and  repulsed 
by  twelve  British  soldiers  under  command  of  a  sergeant. 
This  man  had  the  spirit  of  Herve  Riel ;  for,  being  told 
to  name  his  reward  for  the  gallant  defence,  asked  only 
— that  his  wife  might  be  allowed  to  come  out  and  join 
him.*  It  is  satisfactory  to  know  that  in  addition  he 
received  a  pension  C^zo  !)  and  a  medal. 

In  1852  Greek  superseded  ItaUan  as  the  official 
language.  With  increased  education  there  arose  a 
steady  demand  for  union  with  the  mother  country ; 
a  demand  so  natural  and  so  insistent  that  in  1864  the 
islands  were  restored  to  Greece.  The  negotiations 
for  this  restoration  were  chiefly  in  the  hands  of  Mr. 

*  But  this  was  not  so  small  a  concession  in  those  days ;  for  in  1851 
Lord  Carlisle  wrote  of  the  Corfu  garrison  that  only  6  per  cent,  of  the 
men  were  allowed  their  wives,  and  "  somethings  yet  remains  to  be  done  " 
for  their  accommodation,  since  they  had  to  sleep  in  the  common  barrack 
rooms  with  the  men. 

55 


The  Story  of  Corfu 


Gladstone  as  special  commissioner,  and  Count  Dous- 
mani,  at  that  time  secretary  of  state  for  the  islands, 
and  were  concluded  hy  the  Treaty  of  London,  signed 
by  Queen  Victoria,  the  Emperors  of  Russia  and  France, 
and  the  King  of  Greece. 

The  unqualified  union  of  the  Ionian  Islands  with 
their  mother  country  was  most  loyally  and  joyfully 
received.  But  it  has  been  rumoured  in  later  years 
that  they  do  not  always  find  their  mother  easier  to 
deal  with  than  their  guardian,  or  more  thoughtful  for 
their  interests.  Lean  years  have  come  to  the  island, 
and  it  has  sunk  into  a  stagnation  from  which  its  inter- 
course with  the  wider  range  of  Britain  might  have 
saved  it. 

However,  now  that  Kaiser  Wilhelm  has  adopted 
the  Villa  Achilleion  for  a  holiday  seat,  and  that  Queen 
Alexandra  also  loves  Corfu  and  visits  it  on  all  her 
Mediterranean  cruises,  the  island  is  no  longer  in  danger 
of  remaining  asleep,  unknown,  though  modern  com- 
merce has  passed  it  by,  and  its  fort  is  no  longer  "  the 
Keye  of  Christendome."  Let  us  hope  that  its  in- 
habitants will  realise  in  time  that  untouched  natural 
beauty  is  the  sole,  though  ample,  attraction  of  Corfu  ; 
and  that  no  vandalism  or  hope  of  gain  may  ever  mar 
"  the  loveliest  spot  of  all  Greece." 

Finlay  states  that  the  British  rule  in  the  Ionian 
Islands  created  misunderstanding  and  dislike  on  both 
sides.  If  so,  that  feeling  is  long  past  now  ;  the  Corfiotes 
love  of  the  English  is  only  second  to  that  of  their  own 

56 


Union  with  Greece 


countiymen,  and  English  people  in  Corfu  are  sure  of 
the  happiest  and  most  friendly  welcome.  Enough 
time  has  passed  to  show  Corfiotes  the  truth  expressed 
by  one  of  their  own  writers,  Stefanos  Xenos,  who  said, 
"  If  ever  a  state  was  prosperous,  free  and  progressing 
under  the  dominion  of  another,  that  state  was  Ionia 
under  the  dominion  of  Great  Britain ;  and  yet  no 
people  could  be  more  restless  in  their  position,  and 
more  anxious  to  escape  from  the  shelter  afforded  by  the 
patron  power  than  the  lonians."  * 

Since  the  union  with  Greece  Corfu  has  been  happy 
in  having  no  history,  and  if  treaties  hold,  its  stormy 
days  are  for  ever  over,  for  by  the  Treaty  of  London 
its  harbour  is  guaranteed  perpetual  neutrality. 


*  East  and  West ;  a  diplomatic  history  of  the  annexation  of  the  Ionian 
Isles  to  the  Kingdom  of  Greece. 


57 


AN  ARTIST  IN  CORFU 


AN     AFTERNOON     IN     SPRING. 


AN    ARTIST    IN    CORFU 

CHAPTER  I 

Spring  in  Corfu 

IT  is  rather  hard  to  say  when  spring  begins  in 
Corfu,  for  what  we  would  consider  to  be  the 
spring  flowers — irises,  anemones,  etc. — come  up 
most  joyously  as  soon  as  the  rains  of  autumn  recall 
them  to  life,  after  the  summer  drought.  However, 
they  are  still  gaily  flowering  after  all  the  winter 
storms,  and  woodland  and  waste  are  flooded  with 
their  colour  through  March  and  April. 

These  months  are  more  passionately  springlike  than 
in  England.  A  great  gale  tears  over  from  Albania, 
flings  torrents  of  hail  and  rain  through  the  groves, 
rolls  off  in  splendid  masses  of  rainbow-shot  cloud, 
and  leaves  everything  twinkling  more  brightly  than 
before,  and  the   lulls   newly   washed   and   wonderful. 

The  little  donkey  tracks,  steeper  and  stonier  than 
one  would  think  possible  for  animals,  wUl  for  half  an 
hour  be  rather  more  watercourse  than  causeway ; 
but  the  peasants  will  soon  be  at  work  again,  indifferent, 
so  it  seems,  to  the  drenched  grass  ;  and  the  sun  will  be 
distilling  double  sweetness  from  orange  blossom,  and 
more  exquisite  fragrance  from  the  lemon.  Where'er  one 
wanders  through  the  woods,  the  air  is  violet-scented ; 
and  from  the  flrst  silver  shining  of  the  almond  in 
February,  there  is  an  overlapping  succession  of  all  the 

6i 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


blossoms,  and  a  perfect  riot  of  dainty  woodland  flowers ; 
the  last  of  them  holding  out  astonishingly  into  the  hot- 
weather  months,  when  one  has  just  energy  to  wonder 
at  their  courage  and  endurance. 

They  make  the  island  a  fairyland  throughout  the 
spring.  Under  the  olives  stretch  greenest  glades  all 
starred  with  mauve  anemones,  or  blue  with  the  three 
shades  of  lovely  iris  stylosa,  whereof  the  two  lighter 
shades  are  of  silk,  but  the  darkest  of  velvet.  Even  the 
daisies  are  glorified  into  shining  patches  of  silver,  and 
in  the  fields  and  vineyards  shepherd's  purse  makes  a 
right  good  show,  or  gives  place  to  a  rich  patterned 
carpet  of  darling  bird's-eye  speedwell,  tiny  orange 
marigolds,  the  rosiest  of  silenes,  cranes-bills,  butter- 
cups, and  pimpernels.  All  these  colours  are  simply  "laid 
on  with  a  trowel,"  and  above  them  are  the  deep 
purple  anemones,  or  clumps  of  narcissi,  ixias,  oxalis  and 
mallows,  whose  longer  stalks  raise  them  through 
the  mosaic  of  smaller  flowers.  There  are  delightful 
grape  hyacinths,  too — drops  of  pure  deep  blue 
scattered  in  wayside  grass  and  vineyard — and  patches 
of  purple  honesty  flowers  in  the  hedges  of  thorn 
and  prickly  pear  by  the  high-road.  After  the 
stylosas  have  passed,  the  woods  are  illumined  by 
a  very  blue  little  day  iris,  a  rigid  little  thing,  in- 
dividually not  so  graceful  as  its  predecessor,  but  very 
delightful  in  its  mass  of  shimmering  blue,  and  dying 
also  in  masses  with  wonderful  unanimity.  One  after- 
noon I  was  trying  to  seize  its  colour  and  sparkle  under 

62 


Spring  in  Corfu 


the  nearest  olive  trees.  At  about  a  quarter  past  four 
the  colour  dimmed,  and  within  twenty  minutes  it  had 
quite  vanished,  for  every  flower  was  shrivelled  on  its 
stalk.  However,  the  spring  flowers  arose  again  and 
again  in  fresh  beauty  when  one  thought  them  gone 
for  ever,  and  always  some  new  arrival  consoled  for 
departed  joys. 

The  blossom,  both  wild  and  cultivated,  is  a  wonder 
and  a  joy,  and  demands  imperiously  that  one  should 
paint  nothing  else.  It  shimmers  distantly  among  the 
rolling  stretches  of  olive  woods  and  about  the  hill- 
side villages.  It  is  arrayed  in  unimaginable  glory  of 
colour  against  the  blue  straits  and  mountains — a 
symphony  of  light,  accented  by  the  solemn  tones  of 
the  great  cypresses. 

On  sandy  wild  hillsides,  from  among  whin  and  heath 
and  scrub,  the  wild  pears  toss  up  long  arms  of  foamy 
blossom  ;  more  sheltered  below  is  a  thicket  of  black- 
thorn full  of  the  sunlight.  In  the  distance  the  young 
trees  of  the  Cressida  flats  turn  into  a  pink  mist  of  peach 
blossom,  followed  by  plum,  pear,  and  apple,  each  in 
turn  demanding  the  crown  for  beauty. 

Later  come  the  beautiful  single-growing  quince 
blossoms,  the  magnolias,  so  like  white  birds  at  rest, 
nespoles  in  golden  knots  ripening  among  their  rich 
green  foliage  and  taking  the  place  of  oranges  in  the 
colour  scheme,  and  asphodel  spreading  like  a  fairy 
cloud  through  the  woods.  It  is  so  beautiful,  the 
asphodel :  coming  unnoticed  at  first,  a  poor-coloured 

63 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


flower  it  seems,  just  like  an  enlargement  of  a  London 
Pride  straggling  to  three  or  four  feet  in  height. 
Then  one  day  it  is  no  longer  in  single  stalks,  but  a 
wonderful  veil  of  rosy  silver,  possessing  the  glades 
of  the  ancient  olive  woods,  a  mystery  and  delight 
to  the  eye  for  all  the  weeks  of  its  blossoming. 

The  charm  of  Corfu's  flowers  is  not  only  in  their 
splendid  mass  under  that  high  sun,  but  equally  in  the 
dainty  perfection  of  the  little  miniatures  which  reveal 
themselves  in  every  rambling  walk.  Minute  and 
fascinating  members  of  the  vetch  and  clover  famihes 
appeared  new  to  me  almost  daily  ;  and  the  varieties  of 
bee  orchis  are  very  beautiful  and  interesting.  The 
favourites  of  cottage  gardens  and  walls  are  carnations 
and  stocks,  la  France  and  other  roses,  and  wallflowers. 
In  the  courtyard  the  silken  tassels  of  wistaria  draped 
yards  of  the  high  wall,  reached  over  and  flung  higher 
cascades  of  colour  from  the  old  olive-trees  outside, 
and  stretched  a  lovely  pavilion  over  where  the  ham- 
mocks hung  outside  in  the  breeze  between  the 
olive  trunks.  The  great  purple  irises  filled  all  the 
beds  in  the  courtyard  at  the  same  time,  and  there 
were  pink  tree  peonies  too,  and  feathery  double 
dutzia. 

In  the  long,  fierce  drought  of  the  summer  Corfiotes 
truly  say  they  have  no  gardens,  for  water  is  always 
precious,  and  sometimes  almost  unprocurable ;  but 
during  the  spring  months  it  is  hard  to  remember  this, 
for  all  the  plants   which  can  survive   that   summer 

64 


Q 
CC 
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I- 


Spring  in  Corfu 


starvation  grow  with  such  beauty  and  luxuriance,  that 
in  their  riches  the  coming  lean  months  are  forgotten. 

The  winter  storms  are  generally  past  by  the  end  of 
February,  and  a  period  of  golden  weather  follows. 
Even  at  the  end  of  June  I  did  not  find  it  too  hot  for 
painting,  though  I  must  confess  that  the  donkey  then 
bore  me  to  work,  and  that  from  eleven  till  two  I  was 
happier  indoors  or  in  the  hammock.  Many  Corfiote 
ladies  say  they  do  not  begin  to  bathe  before  July,  as  it 
is  too  cold  before  then  ! 

In  May  we  used  to  go  down  to  the  sea  at  six 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  even  then  there  was  not 
a  shiver  in  the  water,  and  the  steep  climb  up  again 
was  much  too  hot  for  comfort.  By  June,  in  addition 
to  the  peasant  girl  bearing  our  garments,  the  procession 
included  the  donkey  for  E.'s  return  journey.  I  always 
found  that  at  so  acute  an  angle  the  exertion  of  stick- 
ing on  to  the  pack-saddle  on  that  minute  beast's  back 
was  quite  as  great  as  walking. 

In  early  morning  the  Straits  and  distant  mountains 
are  of  softly  shining  silver — a  most  radiant  mirror  world. 
Strange  fish  swim  unafraid  beside  one  in  the  clear 
water  or  stroll  with  rudimentary  limbs  on  the  sandy 
bottom.  Perhaps  there  are  a  few  fishing  boats  afloat 
in  the  silver,  or  along  the  shore  a  band  of  men  hauling 
their  great  net  with  a  song.  It  is  very  ecstatic,  but  we 
do  not  stay  long,  or  it  will  be  too  hot  to  start  out  for 
painting. 

On  some  mornings  I  must  confess  the  bathe  seemed 

65  F 


An  Artist  in   Corfu 


rather  a  duty  than  a  pleasure,  when  one  contemplated 
the  returning  climb.  But  baths  were  a  prohibitive 
luxury  when  the  last  rains  had  fallen,  so  it  was  sea  or 
nothing.  Then  there  were  days  of  sirocco,  too,  some- 
times, when  one  felt  all  cross  and  horrid,  and  there 
might  be  an  invasion  of  insect  life,  when  for  a  time 
Corfu  ceased  to  be  one's  paradise.  But  the  fresh 
north-west  wind  would  come,  and  again  the  island 
would  be  the  most  lovely  and  desirable  and  bewilder- 
ingly  paintable  spot  in  the  world,  and  a  lifetime  too 
short  for  its  worthy  admiration,  as  each  day  one's 
artistic  desires  so  hopelessly  outran  their  fulfilment. 

I  think  the  situation  of  the  Dousmani's  house  is 
unsurpassed  by  any  in  the  island.  It  is  surrounded  to 
its  walls  with  olives  and  flowering  trees  and  vineyards, 
and  as  the  only  road  arrives  near  it  from  inland,  after 
climbing  the  great  Gastouri  hill,  its  glorious  view  over 
the  Straits  comes  as  a  breathless  surprise  to  visitors. 
Like  most  coimtry  houses  the  ground  floor  is  entirely 
occupied  by  the  wine  magazine — the  large  earth-floored 
chambers  where  the  wine  of  the  estate  is  made  and 
stored — so  at  the  first  glance  from  the  high  first-floor 
windows  one  seems  to  be  hung  right  over  the  wonderful 
blue  world  of  the  Straits.  The  steep-dropping  olive 
woods  below  slide  out  of  sight  into  the  sea,  and  across 
the  water  the  great  white  peaks  and  ranges  of  Epiros 
run  southward  to  gentler  slopes ; — to  where,  in  the 
sickle's  curve,  our  own  mountains  and  crags  drop  to 
meet  them  in  the  slenderest  point  of  Lefkimmo. 

66 


Spring  in  Corfu 


Faint,  beyond  the  Straits,  on  clear  days  a  line  of 
deeper  blueness  shows  Paxo  along  the  horizon. 

The  sea  does  not  cease  to  be  a  marvel,  an  enchantress 
of  subtle  changing  colour  ;  even  on  a  grey  day,  throb- 
bing with  strange  flushes  of  violet  and  veiled  emerald, 
its  harmonies  of  grey  new  to  northern  eyes,  and  hinting 
always  at  the  masterful  sun  ;  while  on  the  usual  spring 
morning,  with  a  little  breeze  fingering  its  surface  and 
sending  along  the  bright  clouds  to  enrich  its  melting 
blues  with  their  pure  shadows,  not  only  ocean,  but  hills 
and  woods  share  in  the  "  unnumbered  smile  " — the 
sparkle  which  is  never  harsh  and  always  luminous,  and 
in  which  only  the  cypresses  have  no  part. 

One  can  be  almost  vexed  one  is  a  painter,  so  en- 
trancing it  would  be  to  wander  day-long  in  the  green 
glades  of  the  oHves  above  the  sea,  and  find  new  ways 
among  their  ancient  terraced  steeps.  There,  all 
through  the  spring  months,  the  women  gather  cease- 
lessly the  falling  fruit,  in  gentle  coloured  groups  of 
blues  and  browns ;  not  without  some  accent  of  red  or 
orange  in  head-dress  and  apron,  some  movement  of  the 
accompanying  children  and  goats. 

Though  the  men  have  pleasant  voices,  the  women 
chatter  like  gulls,  shrilly  and  high.  They  give  one 
friendly  greeting  in  passing,  with  sometimes  an  offering 
of  wayside  flowers ;  and  the  younger  women  have  a 
pretty  habit  of  a  violet  dangling  from  the  mouth, 
which  makes  their  flashing  smile  additionally  attractive. 

One  of  the  great  pleasures  of  Corfu  is  the  freedom 

67  F2 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


it  allows  to  wander  where  one  will.  There  are  main 
roads  between  towns  and  villages  ;  beyond  them  only 
rough  foot  and  donkey  tracks  among  woods  and  fields 
and  waste.  Except  for  the  multitudinous  dry  stone 
terracing,  hoary  and  crumbling  with  age,  for  the  olives 
on  the  steeper  slopes,  there  are  no  walls,  nor  are 
there  laws  of  trespass  or  custom  to  forbid  one's  ex- 
cursions. Of  course,  one  would  no  more  think  of 
passing  among  the  young  buds  of  a  vineyard  in  April 
than  of  trampling  June  "  mowing  grass  "  in  England ; 
but  with  that  exception  the  countryside  is  free  for 
endless  scrambles  among  the  crags,  through  the  woods, 
and  down  to  the  shore,  where  every  fresh  path  reveals 
some  entrancing  view  of  land  or  sea  or  blossom  ;  some 
scene  in  the  peasant's  simple  life ;  some  surprising 
glory  of  colour  or  light.  And  everywhere  the  soft 
green  of  the  olives  is  over  the  island.  One  emerges 
from  the  spreading  woods  on  to  some  great  rock  high 
above  the  sea,  to  look  down  upon  this  other  sea  of 
oHves  surging  against  the  crags  and  cliffs,  crowding 
round  the  villages,  pushing  almost  over  the  shores  of  the 
island  in  its  wealth  of  foliage,  and  turning  to  myriad 
rainbow  colours  in  the  intense  light  and  air.  The 
olives  are  the  foundation — the  dainty  background — for 
all  the  brilliant  beauties  of  Corfu, — as  they  are  very 
Uterally  its  mainstay  and  support. 


68 


CHAPTER  II 

The  Olive  Workers 

IN  a  good  olive  year  the  whole  peasant  population 
is  absorbed  by  the  olive  harvest,  which 
lingers  from  Januaiy  till  May,  and  is  by  far  the 
most  important  crop  for  Corfu,  furnishing  practically 
its  only  export.  For  this  reason  it  is  to  be  regretted 
that  the  olive  has  not  suited  its  internal  economy  to 
its  responsible  position.  For  it  puts  forth  its  flowers 
in  April,  just  when  it  is  most  occupied  with  ripening 
fruit,  so  if  its  last  year  has  been  prolific  it  has  really 
neither  energy  nor  space  to  attend  to  this  year's  blos- 
soming. Consequently  its  crops  are  very  irregular,  and 
the  people  dependent  on  them,  at  the  best  not  rich,  are 
in  poor  years  almost  destitute.  It  is  said  the  peasants 
are  improvident — but  a  diet  of  bread  and  oil  does  not 
leave  a  wide  margin  for  thrift !  They  are  independent 
in  some  ways,  possessing  their  little  bits  of  land  and 
clusters  of  trees,  or  renting  them,  at  the  price  of  a  few 
days'  work  in  the  landlord's  vineyard.  They  work 
freely  and  as  they  like,  and  are  content  in  their  little 
society  and  hereditary  tasks.  They  rarely  advance 
or  develop  beyond  these  ;  offers  of  comfort,  good  wages 
and  light  work  hardly  tempt  them  from  their  fields  to 
town  or  country  service.  They  would  feel  as  exiles 
from  their  kind,  and  would  soon  return  to  hard  work 

69 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


and  hard  fare  in  freedom,  to  the  pleasant  evening 
gossip  in  bottega  or  by  the  well,  and  the  friendly 
greetings  in  the  fields. 

Throughout  the  spring  months  the  women  and 
girls  stoop  and  crouch  day-long  under  the  olives, 
gathering  the  tiny  sloe-like  berries  and  conveying  them 
by  head  or  donkey-load  to  the  oil  magazines,  where 
their  share  of  the  work  ends  when  they  pile  the  fruit, 
still  covered  with  grey  bloom,  into  the  stone  bunkers 
which  line  the  end  of  the  magazine,  to  await  its  crushing. 

The  Corfiotes  consider  that  the  trees  are  harmed 
by  beating,  so  until  the  final  gathering  the  fruit  is 
just  left  to  drop,  which  it  does  steadily  for  months. 
After  a  few  days  of  wind  and  rain  have  held  the  pickers 
idle,  they  have  hard  work  to  recover  the  quantity  of 
fallen  olives,  which  lie  almost  in  masses  under  the  trees, 
or  are  carried  by  the  rains  into  every  kink  and  pocket 
of  walls  and  paths,  making  walking  difficult,  and  sitting 
down  impossible. 

The  oil  magazines  are  part  of  every  estate  of  any  size. 
They  are  low,  ancient  and  primitive  stone  buildings, 
with  vastly  picturesque  interiors.  Their  small  windows 
throw  Rembrandt-like  lights  over  the  uneven  floor, 
clumsy  machinery,  and  moving  figures,  set  in  a  most 
etchable  mystery  of  shadows. 

The  Dousmani's  magazine  was  the  most  fascinating 
place  for  wet  days.  There  was  little  light,  and  still 
less  room  for  sketching,  but  it  was  full  of  subject  and 
character. 

70 


The  Olive  Workers 


Under  an  arch  at  the  far  end  are  big  stone  bunkers, 
full  of  the  fresh  olives,  which,  with  the  patient  pony  in 
the  midst,  await  their  turn  at  the  mill.  Just  opposite 
the  door  is  the  massive  and  primitive  mill,  formed  by  a 
roughly  built  stone  bed  about  two  feet  high ;  and  in  its 
centre  a  great  upright  beam  supporting  a  granite  mill- 
stone. From  the  centre  of  the  stone  a  somewhat 
slighter  treetrunk  radiates  to  be  harnessed  to  the 
patient  pony.  And  the  mill's  motive  power  is  quick- 
ened by  a  man  at  its  tail,  who,  as  he  follows  round, 
shovels  the  oUves  into  position  or  addresses  himself 
to  the  pony  as  occasion  requires. 

He  wears  a  blue  blouse  an  d  the  whole  picture  has 
the  rhythmic  monotony  of  a  Millet. 

It  is  Cipi,  the  overseer,  who  decides  when  the  olives 
have  been  sufficiently  crushed.  He  may  take  a  turn 
at  the  mill ;  but  is  more  likely  to  be  sitting  by  the  open 
hooded  hearth,  where  a  great  black  pot  of  water  steams, 
with  perhaps  a  smaller  pan  beside,  into  which  he  slices 
vegetables  and  bread  for  a  savoury  dinner. 

On  a  wet  day  the  women  bringing  in  the  olives  wring 
out  their  dripping  skirts  and  gather  round  the  wood 
fire  to  eat  their  midday  meal  in  shelter.  Fine  types, 
beautiful  in  movement  and  grouping,  and  strongly  lit 
by  the  flames  in  the  grey  gloom.  But  get  them  as 
models  you  cannot,  if  it  is  a  good  olive  year.  No,  the 
olives  are  fallen — they  must  be  gathered.  This  is, 
I  gather,  a  natural  law,  and  cannot  be  broken. 

The  men  take  a  heap  of  soft  woven  circular  baskets, 

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An  Artist  in  Corfu 


which  open  out  to  the  shape  of  a  goldfish  bowl ;  they 
half  fill  them  from  the  crushed  mass  on  the  mill  bed, 
pile  them  neatly  in  one  of  the  rugged  wooden  presses, 
and,  taking  a  long  wooden  lever,  begin  to  screw.  If  the 
weather  is  at  all  chilly  boiling  water  is  first  poured  over 
the  baskets  to  help  out  the  oil,  and  all  this  moisture 
runs  down  into  a  circular  stone  gutter  and  round  to  the 
mouth  of  a  great  stone  tank  underground,  where  it 
is  left  to  settle. 

As  the  pressure  gets  stiffer  the  two  men  fasten  a  rope 
to  the  end  of  their  long  lever  from  a  thick  upright  pole 
fitted  with  a  breast-high  cross-piece ;  and  to  this 
primitive  windlass,  in  the  half-lit  arched  extremity  of 
the  long  building,  they  give  their  whole  weight,  and 
produce  the  best  picture  of  the  magazine  series. 

To  continue  the  story  of  the  oil : — from  the  first  tank 
underground  it  is  skimmed  to  other  tanks — solid  stone 
tanks  standing  round  the  walls  and  suitable  for  forty 
thieves — and  there  it  again  stays  to  settle  and  get 
rid  of  more  impurities  ;  while  the  almost  black,  madder- 
coloured  refuse  of  acid  water  is  run  off  by  wayside, 
field  or  watercourse,  where  its  pungent  smell  and 
the  scorched  herbage  of  its  course  are  characteristics 
of  all  the  countryside. 

After  several  settlings  the  oil  is  put  into  casks  or  skins 
and  sent  to  market  and  export.  A  cart  full  of  oil- 
skins is  one  of  the  few  unpleasant  sights  of  Corfu,  for 
they  stick  up  all  leggily  and  shining,  and  the  smell  of 
the  oil  thus  in  bulk  is  nauseating. 

72 


The  Olive  Workers 


It  is  very  usual  for  proprietors  to  let  out  the  season's 
oil  crop  to  some  peasant,  who  undertakes  the  whole 
working  of  the  fruit  and  receives  half  the  oil  in  return. 
This  plan  has  obvious  advantages,  as  it  ensures  the 
utmost  results  from  the  crop,  and  that  the  proprietor's 
olives  will  not  be  neglected  because  the  overseer  has 
fruit  of  his  own  to  grind.  For  the  Corfiote  peasants 
are  still  in  the  childlike  and  primitive  stage  when  con- 
stant supervision  is  desirable,  and  would  hardly  con- 
sider an  engagement  binding  if  it  were  to  their  own 
hindrance. 

I  am  assured  I  may  give  my  purse  to  a  peasant  to 
carry  from  end  to  end  of  the  island.  They  are  honest 
to  their  code,  though  eastern  enough  to  love  a  bargain, 
but  in  small  matters  their  code  is  similar  to  that  of  an 
English  schoolboy  in  regard  to  his  neighbour's  apples. 
It  is  necessary  to  guard  carefully  all  household  supplies, 
such  as  sugar,  coffee,  vegetables,  fruit,  etc.,  or  a  rapidly 
increasing  leakage  sets  in.  The  poorer  peasants,  who 
sell  all  their  own  little  crops  of  fruit  and  vegetables, 
all  luxuries  like  eggs  and  cheese,  do  not  object  to 
sweeten  their  diet  of  bread  and  oil  by  helping  themselves 
from  their  landlord's  portion.  This  little  mistake  is 
made  easier  by  the  undefended  wayside  trees,  unfenced 
plots,  and  general  freedom  of  passage  over  the  island. 

In  one  very  notable  way  their  morality  takes  pre- 
cedence to  ours — they  are  remarkably  abstemious. 
During  a  four  months'  stay  I  saw  only  one  drunken 
man,  and  that  was  on  a  festa,  and  he  lay  limp  across 

73 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


the  loaded  sacks  of  the  pack-saddle,  while  his  pony- 
proceeded  sedately  homewards.  We  hoped  no  im- 
patient motor-car  (for  it  was  on  the  Gastouri  road, 
during  the  Kaiser's  visit)  would  disturb  them  :  for 
not  even  the  peasants  keep  any  rule  of  the  road,  so  one 
cannot  expect  their  beasts  to  do  so  alone. 

The  Greeks  drink  their  own  light  wines,  and  are  not 
averse  to  a  glass  of  Cognac ;  but  the  singing  in  the 
wayside  bottege  is  tuned  in  pleasant  harmonies ;  and 
even  the  townsfolk  keep  a  delicate  taste  for  water,  and 
are  able  to  recognise  the  different  sources  from  which 
the  little  white  hand-carts  are  supplied,  which,  covered 
with  green  boughs,  hawk  water  through  the  streets. 

When  summer  heats  come  and  fruits  ripen,  the 
peasants  build  themselves  huts,  arbours,  and  tree 
platforms,  where  they  sleep  among  the  olives  beside 
their  crops,  to  ward  off  marauders,  and  especially 
dogs.  One  of  these  thieves  will  ruin  a  vineyard  in  a 
single  night,  so  they  are  consequently  shot  at  sight. 

After  the  vintage  all  return  to  winter  quarters  in  the 
old  solidly  built  stone  houses  and  huts  of  the  hillside 
villages ;  retired  sites,  at  utmost  distance  from  the 
myriad  pirates  of  former  days,  and  still  a  safe  refuge 
from  lowland  fevers.  Often  the  peasants  go  miles  to 
work  in  their  scattered  fields  and  woods, — little  prop- 
erties complicated  by  giving  and  receiving  of  dowries. 
Though  they  do  not  work  well  for  others,  yet  in 
their  uninquiring  traditional  methods  they  labour  hard 
for  their  own  land,  so  that  the  present  gardens  of  Corfu 

74 


The  Olive  Workers 


are  not  so  far  below  those,  fabulous  and  famous,  of 
Alcinous,  which  bore  fruit  twice  a  year,  and  even  all 
the  year  round.  For  in  April  come  the  strawberries, 
followed  by  a  most  luscious  array  of  cherries — such 
cherries  ! — amber  and  white  and  red  and  black,  trans- 
lucent in  their  glossy  perfection,  and  competing  for 
favour  with  the  perfect  gold  of  the  nespoles.  • 
This  most  refreshing  of  fruit  is  very  beautiful,  clustered 
among  its  dark  green  foliage.  The  lower  knots  can  be 
picked  in  passing  from  the  trees  just  outside  the  court- 
yard gate,  and  in  all  the  orchard  places  and  among  the 
vineyards  they  are  the  richest  note  of  colour. 

By  the  beginning  of  June  the  early  figs  are  ripe,  sweet 
as  honey,  and  mulberries,  almost  bursting  with  their 
own  juice,  and  quite  colouring  the  trees  with  their 
abundance.  Apricots  follow,  and  plums,  pears,  apples, 
and  tomatoes  ;  while  before  the  August  figs  are  done 
and  the  later  pears  ripe,  the  first  grapes  are  ready. 
And  the  grapes  continue  till  Christmas,  when  the  first 
oranges  begin  the  year  again. 

Vegetables  grow  with  equal  luxuriance.  Cauli- 
flowers and  purple-faced  brocoli,  leeks  (very  popular 
done  with  mild  red  pepper  sauce),  and  potatoes,  not 
rivalling  ours,  though  quite  good.  Sweet  potatoes, 
beets,  onions,  varieties  of  wild  asparagus  and  other  green 
things  from  the  woods,  and  a  great  variety  of  pumpkins, 
marrows,  and  cucumbers  furnish  forth  the  year. 

Fresh  cheeses,  almost  as  soft  and  white  as  a  blanc- 

*  Loquat. 

75 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


mange,  are  made  from  sheep's  milk,  and  a  little 
dairy  in  the  town  collects  milk  from  the  neighbouring 
villages  and  provides  reliable  butter.  There  is  a 
macaroni  factory  somewhere,  I  know,  but  commerce 
is  not  obtrusive,  and  the  island  is  really  entirely  agri- 
cultural and  pastoral,  living  on  its  olives  and  vines,  and 
on  its  sheep  and  goats.  Cows,  requiring  I  suppose 
more  capital,  are  not  very  common,  but  show  traces 
of  breeding  that  are  absent  in  the  other  domestic 
animals ;  for  ponies  and  horses  are  poor  things,  and 
dogs — well,  they  are  just  dogs.  From  burly  yellow 
and  pied  watch-dogs,  often  savage  and  sometimes 
starved,  to  the  most  repulsive  little  fragments  shivering 
about  the  wayside  shops,  no  one  could  assign  them  to 
any  known  species,  or  even  guess  at  their  ancestry. 


76 


CHAPTER  III 

Village  Life 

EXCEPT  that  the  present  generations  of 
peasants  are  free  from  the  unchecked  extor- 
tions of  their  overlords,  and  no  longer  exposed 
to  the  raids  of  all  varieties  of  pirates,  which  throughout 
the  ages  have  infested  the  shores  of  Greece,  their  life 
seems  essentially  unchanged  since  mediaeval  times. 

As  the  village  priests,  indeed  nearly  all  the  clergy 
of  the  Orthodox  Church,  are  of  the  peasant  class,  and 
most  of  the  landlords  are  absentees,  there  is  no  outward 
Stimulus  to  thought  and  progress  ;  and  it  is  only  an 
exceptional  peasant  who  goes  beyond  his  bit  of  land 
and  the  thoughts  of  his  fathers.  So  the  laborious 
primitiveness  of  their  agriculture,  their  methods  of 
working  field,  olive  and  vine,  are  as  unchanged  as  their 
ancestral  faith  and  thoughts. 

Outside  the  district  of  their  own  village,  with  its 
few  miles  of  property  and  scattered  hamlets,  they  have 
few  interests.  A  woman  who  weds  beyond  these  limits 
is  almost  considered  to  have  made  a  foreign  marriage, 
so  separate  are  the  village  communities. 

As  a  consequence,  each  district  still  keeps  the  ancient 
distinction  of  its  women's  costumes  and  head-dressing, 
though  the  men,  less  straitly  tied  to  home,  are  adopting 
ordinary  European  clothes,  and  quite  disturbing  the 
picture. 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


So  little  have  they  really  outgrown  old  habits  though, 
that  they  still  appear  to  have  the  ingrained  habit  of 
fear,  the  instinct  of  the  small  and  conquered  nation, 
vi^hich  prompts  to  prevarication,  feigned  stupidity  or 
untruth,  when  a  question  is  asked  or  order  given  : 
to  find  some  means  of  gaining  time  or  escaping. 

One  can  hardly  otherwise  account  for  their  quite 
unreasoning  and  aimless  perversions — puzzling  by  their 
very  superfluity.  Unless,  like  their  pilfering  of  small 
edibles,  etc.,  they  are  just  a  primitive  people's  surviving 
touch  of  childhood,  and  rather  a  lack  of  development 
than  an  active  fault.  Certainly  one  finds  it  easier  to 
condone  these  failings  in  them  than  in  one's  own  kind. 

This  primitiveness  of  the  peasant,  though  partly 
caused  by  the  absence  of  landlords  and  educated  leaders, 
whose  small  shares  of  interest  in  the  much  divided 
properties  rarely  induce  them  to  live  outside  the  town, 
is  also  reactionary  in  its  effects,  for  it  makes  a  "  civi- 
lised "  life  in  the  country  almost  impossible.  Town 
servants  cannot  be  induced  to  leave  the  walls,  to  which 
they  are  rooted  as  firmly  as  the  peasant  to  his  village, 
so  country  dwellers  have  to  rely  altogether  upon  the 
peasants'  help,  and  that  is  a  disturbingly  uncertain 
quantity  both  in  and  out  of  doors. 

First  on  settling  in  the  country  comes  the  difficulty 
of  collecting  a  household.  Possibly  an  old  and  un- 
attached man  can  be  bribed  out  as  cook,  but  the  raw 
material  of  the  peasant  must  provide  maidservants. 

The  town  servants  are  curious  enough,  from  the 

78 


A     GASTURI         BELLE 


The  Servant  Question 

English  standpoint — averaging  the  appearance  of  a 
charwoman,  very  occasionally  rising  to  cap  and  apron, 
more  often  falling  beyond  our  English  conception  of 
slaveydom  ;   but  the  country  product  is  even  quainter. 

Delightful  in  appearance,  of  course,  clean  and  neat 
in  the  pretty  country  costume,  the  peasant  girl  comes 
to  try  her  hand  at  indoor  work.  Probably  from  an 
earth-floored  hut,  where  she  has  hardly  in  her  hfe 
seen  the  most  ordinary  fittings  of  a  house.  For  days 
she  is  laboriously  shown  the  uses  of  things,  initiated 
into  the  mysteries  of  the  dinner  table,  with  its  luxuriance 
of  knives  and  forks,  and  ritual  of  serving.  Then  one 
morning  it  is  announced  that  she  has  gone — ^just  gone — 
been  bored  with  the  strange  and  unmeaning  indoor 
tasks,  and  found  the  plentiful  food  and  light  work  a  poor 
substitute  for  the  freedom  and  hard  fare  of  her  village 
home.  So  a  new  Sofia — it  was  generally  Sofia — has  to 
be  sought  and  the  same  process  repeated  with  her. 

Once,  in  a  Golden  Age,  there  was  Nina — who  was  a 
treasure.  She  quickly  learned  all  her  own  work,  and 
also  how  to  manage  and  superintend  old  Dimitri,  the 
cook,  thus  giving  the  administration  a  much-needed 
rest.  She  learned  Italian  also,  very  prettily  she  spoke, 
and  charmed  all  visitors  with  her  manners.  Add  to 
her  virtues  that  she  took  nothing  but  coffee,  that  she 
cleaned  the  bicycles,  and  mended  their  punctures. 
This  Paragon  stayed  two  years,  and  there  was  peace  in 
the  land,  and  her  delightful  stitchery  adorned  E.'s 
blouses.     Then — Nina    went    home    to    the    village ; 

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An  Artist  in  Corfu 


said,  I  think,  that  her  mother  wanted  her  to  pick 
olives  (she  was  generally  met  water-carrying  for  the 
palace  alterations ;  no  doubt  it  was  quite  interesting, 
so  many  strange  workmen,  such  opportunities  for  seeing 
and  hearing  things),  and  when  I  arrived  the  two  maids 
whom  she  had  trained  were  also  leaving.  Lisav^,  the 
handsome  indoor  maid,  shortly  departed — quantities 
of  oranges,  onions,  and  other  household  stores  vanishing 
at  the  same  time ;  while  Sofia  I.,  the  carrier  of  water, 
tender  of  sheep  and  donkey — in  fact,  hardly  considered 
an  upstairs  person  at  all — ^had  to  be  our  standby  during 
a  long  series,  who  came,  raw  from  the  village,  or  in- 
capable and  dreadful  from  the  town,  and  invariably 
vanished  after  a  few  days.  Six  of  them  within  six 
weeks  was  the  record.  One  most  strapping  maiden 
departed  after  a  single  night,  for  she  did  not  like  sleeping 
alone,  and  others  did  not  even  excuse  themselves. 
The  prize  and  model  of  the  girls'  orphanage,  highly 
recommended,  was  one  of  the  experiments ;  aged  17, 
she  wept  ceaselessly  for  two  days,  while  all  the  house- 
hold showered  bribes  and  attentions ;  then  she  ran 
away  back  to  the  orphanage,  with  her  whole  wardrobe 
on  her  back — six  miles,  and  getting  on  to  hot  weather. 

The  series  included  Katarina,  from  town,  who  was 
not  quite  so  untrainable  as  the  rest,  but  whose  sole 
visible  garment,  for  all  occasions,  was  a  black  muslin 
dress,  sans  collar,  sans  everything,  and  with  the  more 
alarming  of  its  rents  pinned  together.  She  went  in 
stockinged  feet,  too,  till  her  father  brought  her  a  pair 

80 


The   Commissariat 


of  particularly  gorgeous  carpet  slippers  (she  was  in 
mourning).  In  the  moist  heat  of  early  summer  or  on 
those  spring  days  when  sirocco  tests  the  nerves,  these 
minor  troubles  of  life  are  trying  and  one  understands 
why  country  Hfe  is  not  popular  in  Corfu. 

The  country  marketing  is  as  uncertain  as  the  country 
household.  A  weekly  donkey-load  was  brought  every 
Sunday  by  Georgi,  a  bright  yoimg  peasant  from  a 
neighbouring  estate,  who  went  into  town  and  fulfilled 
his  commissions  with  considerable  discrimination, 
though  I  regret  to  say  it  was  necessary  to  weigh  and 
measure  every  item  of  the  load,  or,  like  the  pitman's 
sovereign,  it  "  wad  hev  pined "  on  the  way.  For 
the  rest  of  the  week  we  were  dependent  on  local 
supplies.  The  village  supplied  bread  and  kid  ;  beyond 
that  we  had  what  the  peasants  chose  to  bring.  One 
day  several  women  might  have  promised  greenstuff, 
but  there  would  be  no  vegetable  for  dinner ;  or  we 
had  met  a  fisherman,  who  volunteered  to  bring  fish, 
but  there  would  be  no  fish  on  the  table  :  perhaps  he 
changed  his  mind — who  knows.  Peasants  who  supply 
eggs  do  so  at  their  own  convenience ;  no  eggs  for 
us  while  Kaiser  and  Court  offer  a  better  market ;  eggs 
dumped  on  us  by  the  dozen  when  it  suits  their 
vendors. 

There  was  always  maccaroni,  of  course,  and  Dimitri 
cooked  all  the  southern  dishes  excellently — the  vege- 
tables quite  a  revelation  even  to  a  vegetarian ;  for  we 
cannot  afford  here  to  eat  globe  artichokes  the  size  of 

8i  G 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


walnuts,  shell  and  stalk  and  all ;  nor  indulge  in  marrows 
as  small  as  a  finger,  brought  to  market  with  all  the 
golden  glory  of  their  flowers ; — still  a  lot  was  due  to 
Dimitri. 

The  Kaiser's  holiday  not  only  caused  fluctuations 
in  our  egg  market,  but  indirectly  put  a  stop  to  "  jam- 
ming "  operations.  Cherries  and  strawberries  were 
ripe,  but  there  was  no  sugar  ! 

Little  Corfu  had  so  bestirred  herself  with  gendarmerie 
and  all  precautions  for  the  safety  of  her  distinguished 
visitor  that  the  accustomed  supply  of  duty-free  sugar, 
etc.,  was  perforce  temporarily  cut  off,  and  of  course 
no  one  would  think  of  buying  expensive  duty-paid 
sugar  for  preserving.     So  we  had  to  wait. 

I  was  told  about  one  sack  in  a  hundred  might  pay 
the  almost  prohibitive  duty.  But  the  other  is  the 
more  usual  way  of  entry. 

The  general  method  of  procedure  would  begin  with 
the  advent  of  a  small  child  with  some  sample  tied  in  a 
cloth.  Some  of  this  beet  sugar  seems  to  have  no 
sweetness  at  all ;  but  if  up  to  requirements  negotiations 
as  to  price  would  follow.  One  of  the  partners  in  the 
"  run  "  would  then  appear  and  bargain,  and  in  the 
evening  the  goods  would  be  delivered. 

Occasionally  the  affair  did  not  end  at  this  point. 
In  a  day  or  two  another  man  might  appear,  demanding 
his  share  of  payment,  with  accusations  of  partner's 
dishonesty.  Nothing  stereotyped  about  such  house- 
keeping ! 

82 


The  Habit  of  Smuggling 

Passing  down  the  village  street  there  would  be  a 
murmur,  "  Do  you  want  coffee  ?"  replied  to  by  remarks 
on  weather  and  crops  or  other  innocent  subjects, 
after  which  a  bargain  might  be  unobtrusively  struck 
and  time  of  delivery  appointed. 

E.  once  said,  "  But  how  can  you  bring  the  petroleum 
this  afternoon  ?  "  and  was  answered,  "  The  police 
have  been  paid  to  go  to  the  village  dance.  It  is  quite 
safe." 

Indeed,  in  a  country  poor  as  Corfu,  with  ruinous 
duties,  accommodating  shores,  and  the  free-trade 
coast  of  Turkey  so  very  handy,  smuggling  is  inevitable, 
and  is  almost  openly  practised. 

I  remember  one  evening  we  were  enjoying  the  usual 
sunset  stroll  (we  "  collected  sunsets "  so  to  speak), 
when  a  man  running  through  the  brushwood  started 
Benjie,  E.'s  big  peasant  dog,  barking  violently.  Pre- 
sently, behind  this  scout,  in  proper  adventure-book 
fashion,  came  a  line  of  men,  bent  each  under  a  heavy 
case,  and  making  very  good  way  over  the  rough  ground 
and  among  the  scrub.  It  was  barely  dark,  and  many 
of  the  homeward-faring  peasants  must  have  seen  them 
before  they  had  zigzagged  steeply  up  from  the  shore 
and  crossed  the  uneven  open  ground  above,  to  gain  the 
little  gorge,  where  presumably  they  would  wait  till 
dark.  But  as  this  was  the  arrival  of  the  village  supply 
of  petroleum,  and  as  every  one  would  buy  it,  there 
were  none  to  condemn  its  somewhat  shady  arrival. 

Our  village  of  Gastouri  lies  about  six  miles  south  of 

83  G2 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


the  town.  It  is  one  of  the  largest  and  most  affluent, 
and  lies  high  on  the  landward  slopes  of  Sta.  Kyria  Ki, 
which  is  that  charming  little  peaked  crag,  from  the 
shoulder  of  which  the  Achilleion  palace  (built  and  be- 
loved by  the  unfortunate  Empress  Stephanie)  looks 
over  the  Straits  and  rolling  olive-covered  land.  The 
village  hangs  irregularly  about  what  is  almost  a  ravine 
for  steepness.  Its  road  curls  intricately  among  the 
scattered  houses  of  light-coloured  plaster  and  red  tiles, 
and  it  is  set  in  feathery  olive  and  adornment  of  golden 
orange-trees  and  light  sprays  of  blossom.  The  village 
properties  extend  for  some  miles  north  and  south,  and 
Gastouri  can  afford  to  hire  from  less  prosperous  dis- 
tricts bands  of  olive-pickers,  and  of  young  men  to  till 
its  vines. 

Its  priests  are  kept  busy  with  the  three  or  four 
village  churches,  and  the  half-dozen  isolated  chapels 
which  each  have  their  special  festas,  and  in  some 
cases  require  quite  a  strenuous  pilgrimage.  On  the 
summit  crags  of  Sta.  Kyria  Ki  there  is  not  even 
room  to  get  a  sketch  beside  the  tiny  chapel  and  its 
sentinel  cypresses,  and  it  is  Teached  by  the  steepest  and 
roughest  track,  but  on  Easter  Eve  even  the  most  ancient 
priests  and  all  go  up  in  procession,  somehow. 

Just  over  the  waves,  a  mile  or  more  away,  is  a  fisher- 
man's shrine,  Sta.  Sofia.  It  is  hardly  more  than  a  tiny 
cave  in  the  cliffside  ;  dark,  till  a  match  shows  the  faded 
wreaths  and  spent  candles  of  some  long  past  festa,  and 
the  decaying  panels  of  the  painted  screen  which  divides 

84 


Their  Religious  Faith 

even  this  minutest  of  Greek  churches.  One  has  to 
scramble  down  steeply  to  reach  it,  and  step  respectfully 
across  its  approach  of  very  shaky  and  disintegrating 
boards,  which  show  wave  and  stone  through  their  gaps. 
It  seemed  a  forgotten  and  melancholy  little  place. 

Service  in  the  village  churches  is  popular,  perhaps 
as  much  for  its  social  as  religious  side,  for  the  service 
of  the  Orthodox  Church  is  still  rendered  in  mediaeval 
Greek — incomprehensible  to  many  of  the  populace. 

Some  endurance  is  required  in  the  worshippers,  for 
Sunday  and  festa  services  last  an  hour  or  two,  and  there 
are  no  seats  in  the  churches.  I  know  at  one  service 
which  the  household  was  particularly  anxious  to  attend, 
twenty-four  hymns  to  the  Virgin  were  to  be  included. 
There  are  little  services  at  odd  times  in  the  week 
also,  for  often  a  bell  is  tinkling  from  one  of  the  queer 
little  belfries  which  stands  each  beside  and  detached 
from  its  church. 

That  the  peasants'  mediaeval  faith  is  still  quite  a 
reality  is  proved  by  a  recent  incident  on  my  friends' 
estate.  A  vine-worker,  having  a  grudge  against  the 
overseer,  maliciously  tore  up  the  young  sprouting  vines 
and  cast  them  wasted  on  the  roadway.  Now  this  was 
a  very  serious  matter,  going  beyond  personalities  or 
pilferings,  for  if  it  were  not  checked,  who  in  unwalled 
Corfu  would  be  safe  ?  So  the  village  stirred,  and  the 
priests  took  counsel  together.  Then,  in  church,  they 
solemnly  cursed  the  unknown  thief.  And  this  being 
an  affair  of  grave  import,  the  MetropoHtan  also  gave 

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An  Artist  in  Corfu 


his  services  and  pronounced  an  arch  curse  in  the 
Cathedral  of  Corfu.  So  the  ravages  were  effectually- 
stopped  ;  though  the  effect  on  ravager  is  not  reported. 

The  oldest  of  the  village  priests  is  eighty-two,  and  he 
has  served  in  Gastouri  for  fifty-two  years.  By  a  sensible 
rule,  ordination  does  not  take  place  till  the  age  of  thirty, 
and  though  one  sees  small  boys  of  twelve  in  the  costume 
of  the  priests'  schools  they  are  quite  free  to  remain 
laymen  when  their  education  is  finished,  and  free  to 
marry  before  they  take  orders,  though  not  afterwards, 
nor  do  they  make  bishops  of  the  married  clergy. 

The  Greek  Church  does  not  look  with  much  favour 
on  converts,  theorising  that,  abandoning  their  old 
faith,  they  will  not  keep  to  any  new.  Nor  does  it  like 
innovations,  for  when  Queen  Olga  caused  the  Scriptures 
to  be  translated  into  the  vulgar  tongue,  for  the  people's 
weal  as  she  naturally  thought,  the  deed  seemed  so  sacri- 
legious that  there  were  riots  and  burnings  of  the  offend- 
ing books  in  the  streets  of  Athens.  But  there  feeHng 
runs  so  strong  between  the  supporters  of  *'  pure 
Greek  "  and  "  popular  Greek  "  that  so  rare  an  oppor- 
tunity for  action  could  hardly  have  been  missed. 

The  Gastouri  women  are  famous  beauties,  and  their 
dress  also  is  unexcelled  in  the  island.  On  Sundays  and 
festas  they  are  magnificent,  their  superb  bearing  and 
grace  carrying  off  the  extraordinary  richness  of  their 
costumes.  They  wear  very  full  skirts,  usually  of  black 
cloth,  pleated,  and  with  gay  borderings  of  ribbon,  but 
often  of  most  brilliant  shot  silk ;  and  if  the  little  apron 

86 


Costume  of  the  Women 

is  not  also  of  silk,  its  muslin  is  covered  with  knots 
of  ribbon,  tinsel,  spangles,  lace,  etc. 

The  pretty  old  fashion  of  their  bodice,  still  seen  in 
other  parts  of  the  island,  left  the  full  white  sleeves 
showing,  and  was  simply  an  open-fronted  vest  of  some 
rich  colour  of  velvet,  thickly  encrusted  with  gold 
embroidery,  and  fastened  with  two  silver  or  gold 
buttons  just  above  the  girdle,  which  is  generally  of 
bright,  vertically  striped  material  of  many  colours. 
Now,  the  Gastouri  belles  have  the  fashion  of  wearing 
over  this  a  short  jacket,  either  of  black  cloth  or  coloured 
velvet,  and  it  is  as  stiff  as  the  vest  with  gold  stitchery. 
On  top  of  all  this  glitter  are  chains  of  gold  and  beads, 
and  fine  worked  gold  ornaments  dangling  over  the  white 
hand-worked  chemise,  and  long  slender  bunches  of 
gold  drops  hanging  from  ear  to  shoulder. 

On  the  head  a  wonderful  erection  of  hair  is  worked 
over  a  double  series  of  cushions,  to  which  it  is  bound 
with  red  ribbons.  A  fine  muslin  and  lace-edged 
kerchief  is  turned  back  from  the  crown,  and  sometimes 
dotted  with  tinsel  ornaments  and  coloured  flowers. 
Brides,  and  those  betrothed,  are  even  more  elaborately 
coiffeeSy  for  their  muslin  veils  are  stiffened  to  nearly 
a  foot  in  height,  and  freely  sprinkled  with  flecks  of 
gold  and  colour,  while  over  the  rolls  of  hair  is  placed 
a  great  wreath  of  bright  artificial  flowers,  ribbons, — 
mostly  in  primary  colours  of  course, — tinsel,  and  so  on. 
Imagine  a  group  of  these  gorgeous  beings  passing  along 
the  village  road  with  beautiful  swinging  walk,  to  cluster 

87 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


round  the  well.  They  move  perfectly,  greet  one  with 
gentle  voice,  and  a  bow  like  a  duchess. 

On  all  the  chief  Sundays  and  on  festas,  there  is  a 
dance  in  any  part  of  the  village  street  that  is  not  too 
steep ;  to  its  roughness  the  nimble-footed  Greek 
seems  indifferent.  The  colour  is  hemmed  in  by 
irregular  buildings,  from  walls,  windows  and  stairways 
of  which  gorgeous  heads  look  down  (I  wonder  if  it  was 
the  Crusaders  who  brought  these  Plantagenet-like 
coiffures  north  with  them),  while  other  spectators, 
keenly  interested  and  critical,  surround  and  take  turns 
in  the  circle  of  the  dance. 

Under  the  stone  arcade  of  a  bottega,  fiddler  and 
mandolinist  play  away  at  their  simple  melodies,  and  a 
visitor  is  most  courteously  given  a  chair  in  the  best 
place.  The  dancing  is  kept  up  for  hours,  and  if  in 
honour  of  a  bride,  she  is  expected  to  dance  all  the  time. 
The  men,  whose  part  is  more  exacting,  frequently 
take  rests  and  change  places. 

These  dances  have  descended  from  the  ancient 
Romaika.  The  woman's  part  in  them  is  always  quite 
unchanging.  United  in  double  or  quadruple  procession 
by  their  gay  handkerchiefs,  in  a  species  of  solemn  two- 
step,  they  circle  the  village  street ;  a  rhythmic  bow  of 
colour,  within  which  the  men  execute  their  vigorous  and 
intricate  steps.  There  is  always  one  special  leader  of 
the  dance,  and  no  other  man  may  take  his  place  without 
offence.  He  begins  alone  with  the  women,  gathering 
the  front  row  of  handkerchiefs  in  his  hand  and  moving 

88 


Peasant  Dancing 


backwards  in  front  of  them.  At  first  his  steps  are 
hardly  more  than  posturings,  but  as  they  get  more 
animated,  he  drops  the  handkerchiefs,  turns  round, 
and  with  arms  akimbo  or  raised  begins  a  series  of  reel 
or  hornpipe-like  steps,  while  other  men  gradually  join 
in,  till  there  are  half  a  dozen  or  so,  shuffling  and 
bounding,  generally  gracefully,  within  the  circle.  And 
always  the  women  move  round  with  unchanging 
rhythm  and  eyes  demurely  dropped,  while  behind  them 
little  barefoot  children  join  in  unchecked. 

It  is  pictorially  very  regrettable  that  the  younger 
men  are  abandoning  the  quaint  island  costume  with 
its  full  blue  fustanella  knickers,  and  embroidered  sleeve- 
less coat  and  are  adopting  ordinary  "  ready  mades  " 
and  sailor  hats.  The  latter  are  particularly  unfortunate 
for  the  picturesqueness  of  the  dances  :  worn  at  very 
rakish  angles,  they  generally  fall  off  at  the  most  dramatic 
moment !  There  are  still  enough  of  the  blue  fustanellas 
among  the  older  men  to  show  what  is  lost  by  the  change 
of  costume.  However,  they  do  wear  red  scarves  at  the 
waist  still. 

For  entertainment  other  than  dancing  Gastouri  has 
a  little  theatre,  where  plays  are  performed  by  the  young 
men  of  the  village.  But,  doubtless  from  its  neighbour- 
hood to  the  imperial  palace,  Gastouri  is  really  quite 
an  advanced  village,  as  things  go,  and  I  have  not  heard 
of  any  other  such  place  of  entertainment  outside  the 
town. 

Sunday  dances,  an  occasional  visit  to  town  for  fair 

89 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


or  festa,  a  bridal — these  are  the  country  relaxations. 
For  the  rest  of  their  lives  the  men  hoe  and  plant  or  fish, 
the  women  weed  and  gather  all  day  long,  with  a  sleep 
in  some  tree-shaded  spot  after  the  simple  dinner  of 
bread  and  oil,  and  an  exchange  of  news  at  the  well  in 
the  evening. 

I  doubt  that  the  women  are  always  too  hard  at  work 
in  the  fields  to  have  developed  many  housewifely  arts. 
Their  neat  hands  make  wonderful  patterns  and  smock- 
ings  on  their  chemisettes,  though,  and  the  art  of 
patching  is  much  developed.  I  have  seen  old  dames 
with  jackets  so  intricately  and  variously  patched  that 
none  might  say  if  original  garment  were  there  at  all,  and 
the  full  blue  cotton  skirts  of  everyday  wear  are  generally 
varied  in  gentle  degrees  of  faded  patch. 

But  even  those  foveri  who  are  beyond  the  needle's 
help,  draped  in  Rackham-like  festoons  of  rags,  have  some 
freedom  or  charm  with  them  which  stops  short  of 
English  hopelessness  of  squalor. 

The  little  tradesmen  of  the  villages  seem  fairly 
prosperous,  and  some  few  villagers  rise  to  affluence. 
In  Gastouri  there  is  portly  Pei  Petti,  who  created  a 
village  after  his  name,  just  down  at  the  foot  of  the  hills, 
whereof  he  is  presumably  landlord.  He  has  a  son 
M.P.  in  Athens,  and  of  course  there  is  much  virtue  in 
a  tame  M.P.,  for  he  can  get  roads  and  things  for  the 
district.  So  Pei  Petti  is  Mayor  of  Gastouri  and  in 
that  capacity  presented  a  bouquet  and  address  on  the 
arrival  of  the  Kaiser.     Unfortunately  it  was  a  very 

90 


Cipi,  the  Albanian 


muddy  day,   and   portly  Pei  Petti   slipped  and  the 
bouquet  fell  in  the  mud,  for  all  the  world  to  see. 

It  may  shock  you  to  learn  that  Corfu  is  still  in  that 
primitive  attitude  of  mind  which  deems  it  fitting  that 
the  men  beat  their  womenkind.  E.  says  it  is  such  a 
pity  there  is  no  one  to  beat  the  men  too — the  women 
work  so  much  better. 

Cipi,  the  overseer,  only  followed  the  custom  in  beat- 
ing his  wife  ;  but  it  was  not  reasonable  that  he  beat  her 
for  presenting  him  with  a  girl  instead  of  the  hoped-for 
boy  baby,  and  that  he  continued  to  beat  and  blame 
when  a  second  and  third  daughter  arrived.  Poetic 
justice  has  now  been  executed  on  Cipi,  however,  for  a 
son  was  born  to  him  at  last,  and  now  he  is  grown  up 
and  beats  Cipi. 

Cipi  is  really  an  Albanian ;  his  father  fled  to  Corfu 
after  killing  four  Turks  :  unable  to  return,  the  exile 
established  a  monthly  communication  with  his  family 
by  signal  fires  over  the  Straits,  and  Hved  in  peace.  They 
say  he  was  a  fine  man,  and  probably  the  Turks  needed 
killing.  It  is  strange  to  meet  people  whose  own  grand- 
mothers, no  further  back,  were  kept  hidden  in  cellars 
all  their  youth  for  fear  of  the  Turks.  And  it  may 
account  for  much  of  the  timidity  of  Corfiote  women. 

One  of  the  daughters  of  Cipi  became  E.'s  handmaid. 
Perhaps  the  parental  beatings  had  not  suited  her ; 
for  she  was  ugly  and  very  dull,  and  could  not  even  learn 
how  to  use  a  door  handle  instead  of  the  accustomed 
cottage  latch,  so  very  shortly  she  was  dismissed. 

91 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


Then  a  suitable  husband  was  selected  for  her  by  the 
family ;  but  she  refused  to  marry  him — begged  and 
wept,  till — this  is  a  primitive  tale — her  brother  beat  her 
into  the  betrothal,  which  was  duly  announced.  There 
was  of  course  an  absent  lover ;  he  returned  from  his  term 
of  conscription  then,  and  coming  to  Maria  at  work  in 
the  fields  he  gave  her  bitter  reproaches.  "  You  knew 
that  I  loved  you,  and  would  marry  you,"  said  he. 
"  Aye,  but  what  could  I  do  since  you  had  not  asked 
for  me  ?  "  And  that  was  true  enough,  for  a  modest 
maid  is  not  supposed  even  to  look  at  the  men  too  much, 
and  must  say  nothing  over  bold.  So  the  man  said, 
"  Will  you  now  break  the  betrothal  and  marry  me  ?  " 
And  that  was  a  bold  enough  proposal.  So  she  must 
have  thought  of  all  the  beatings,  and  her  unloved 
betrothed ;  and  the  young  life  that  so  demands  happi- 
ness made  her  answer,  "  My  brother  is  making  me  a 
pair  of  shoes  for  the  wedding,  and  they  will  be  finished 
on  Saturday.  Then  I  will  run  away  with  you  and  we 
will  be  married." 

So  on  Saturday,  when  her  new  shoes  were  made, 
Maria  came  to  him  in  the  woods,  and  they  went  away 
and  were  married  in  defiance  of  the  brother,  and  the 
beatings,  and  the  betrothed.  And  I  think  Maria 
must  have  been  happy,  for  she  became  smiling  and 
beautiful,  and  no  longer  too  stupid  to  know  how  a  door 
opens.  But  alas,  they  did  not  live  happily  for  ever 
after,  for,  whether  it  was  the  parental  beatings  or  the 
barbarous  advice  of  village  wives,  she  became  very  ill, 

92 


Maria 

and  after  a  useless  visit  to  the  hospital  at  Athens,  died, 
lingering,  in  her  woodland  home  over  the  Straits, 
where  she  had  been  used  to  smile  pleasantly  on  us  from 
her  upper  window  as  we  passed. 


93 


CHAPTER  IV 

The  Way  to  Town 

THERE  are  two  ways  from  Gastouri.  Except 
in  summer  heat  the  most  enjoyable  and  lovely 
is  by  the  donkey  track  along  the  coast  ridge, 
through  olive  woods  overhanging  the  Straits,  to  the 
ferry  at  the  mouth  of  the  lagoon.  It  is  a  winding  two 
miles  of  absolute  beauty.  The  grey-green  harmonies 
of  the  olives  are  never  without  some  touch  of  pleasant 
colour ;  all  through  the  spring  they  enshrine  the 
beauties  of  the  blossoms ;  and  ever  they  frame  wonder- 
ful glimpses  of  Straits  and  mountains.  There  are  little 
orange  orchards  nestled  in  the  denes,  and  tiny  patches 
of  tobacco,  and  queer  huts  of  stone  or  reeds  that  one 
expects  to  meet  only  in  an  adventure-book,  and  there 
is  shade  nearly  all  the  way. 

Down  at  the  mouth  of  the  lagoon  are  two  charming 
islets.  The  Pontikonisi,  or  mouse  island,  sometimes 
called  the  isle  of  Ulysses ;  and  the  even  tinier  islet 
of  Nuns.  The  former  is  an  abrupt  little  rock,  clad  with 
cypresses  and  crowned  with  a  tiny  chapel.  It  bears  a 
strong  resemblance  to  Bocklin's  "  Isle  of  the  Dead." 
The  Nuns'  Island  is  at  sea-level,  often  wave-washed, 
and  just  large  enough  to  support  the  simple  white- 
washed building  of  a  little  nunnery ; — a  complete  and 
sunny  contrast  to  the  crags  and  dark  cypresses  of  its 

94 


z 

o 
o 
o 

< 

Ul 
X 
H 

z 

o 

> 

< 

Q 

cc 

Ui 
H 

z 


Canone 

fellow.  A  little  broken  causeway  nominally  connects 
the  Nuns'  islet  with  the  northern  shore  of  the  lagoon. 

About  a  mile  along  the  southern  shore  to  our  left 
is  the  clear  running  stream  of  Cressida,  and  peasants 
say  that  it  was  here  that  Nausicaa  and  her  maidens  had 
been  washing  linen,  by  the  old  legendary  city  on  the 
shore  of  the  lagoon,  when  they  found  Ulysses  cast  ashore. 

Arrived  at  the  ferry  we  must  yell  very  loud  for  Spiro, 
if  there  is  no  peasant  also  waiting  to  do  it  for  us.  He 
generally  comes,  in  time,  when  his  interest  in  fishing 
is  not  too  keen,  and  ferries  us  over  in  a  large  fishy  tub, 
with  octopi  and  pinnae  and  such  curios  lying  about. 
The  northern  lip  of  the  lagoon  rises  quite  abruptly 
from  the  shore,  and  on  the  summit  is  the  site  of  One  Gun 
Battery,  or  Canone,  as  it  is  now  called.  There  is  a 
caf^  on  top,  and  as  it  is  usually  the  first  show  place  to 
which  tourists  are  brought,  the  road  from  here  to  town 
is  haunted  by  little  rogues  of  children  with  flowers  or 
oranges,  running  beside  the  carriages  to  beg  "  pen- 
darras."  Except  for  them  it  is  a  very  pleasant  road. 
From  the  Canone  the  views  inland  over  the  lagoon  are 
beautiful.  Olives  and  orange  gardens  hide  the  few 
villas  built  on  this  favoured  spot,  and  by  climbing  the 
higher  ground  between  the  road  and  the  sea  a  foot- 
passenger  can  easily  get  up  to  Ascensione,*'  a  tiny  village 
and  church,  where  the  great  panegyric  of  the  Ascension 
festa  is  held.  This  is  supposed  to  be  the  site  of  the 
oldest  town  in  Corfu,  PalaeopoHs,  and  near  at  hand  are 

*  Greek  Analipsis. 

95 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


the  only  remaining  fragments  of  ancient  buildings  in 
the  island.*  The  ruins  of  a  small  Doric  temple,  pos- 
sibly to  Neptune,  were  discovered  here  in  1822  by  a 
British  officer. 

The  ancient  town  was  sacked  by  the  Goths  in  the 
sixth  century,  and  during  the  middle  ages  much  of  the 
ancient  masonry  was  used  for  strengthening  the  defences 
of  the  town  as  occasion  required.  So  though  there 
were  stores  of  marble  there  so  late  as  the  seventeenth 
century,  Corfu  is  now  left  with  hardly  a  trace  of  her 
ancient  people. 

A  short  mile  to  the  north  of  Ascensione  is  Mon 
Repos,  a  small  country  villa  built  by  a  British 
Governor,  General  Adams,  and  now  belonging  to  the 
King  of  Greece.  The  villa  stands  well  over  the  sea, 
and  from  its  terraces  there  are  exquisite  views  over  the 
widest  expanse  of  the  Straits,  and  over  Kastrades 
Bay  (the  ancient  Garitza)  to  the  town  and  outstanding 
forts  and  their  background  of  mountains.  The  grounds 
are  usually  open  to  the  public,  and  are  very  charming 
in  a  half-wild  way,  with  trees  and  flowering  shrubs, 
jutting  crags,  and  reedy  dips  to  the  sea. 

Tucked  away  beside  the  gate  of  Mon  Repos  is  the 
tiny  convent  of  St.  Euphemia ;  and  from  the  rock 
just  in  front  of  it  is  the  finest  view  over  Kastrades — the 
great  sweep  of  the  bay  ending  in  the  long  bold  line  of 

*  At  the  pretty  fishing-  villag-e  of  Benizza,  six  miles  to  the  south, 
there  are  the  remains  of  a  Roman  bath  with  mosaics  in  one  the 
orange  orchards  ;  and  nearer  the  town  is  the  tomb  of  Menekrates  beside 
the  new  museum. 


96 


A   Byzantine  Church 

the  forts.  Just  below,  the  suburbs  begin,  and  here  to 
the  right  of  our  road  is  the  picturesque  outline  of  the 
oldest  church  in  the  island  ;  a  most  charming  pile  of 
Byzantine  work,  dedicated  to  Saints  Jason  and  Sosi- 
petro,  saints  who  were  companions  of  St.  Paul  and 
are  said  to  have  been  the  first  Christian  preachers  in 
Corfu.  In  this  little  church  are  incorporated  remains 
of  heathen  temples,  two  pillars  of  grey  marble  being 
a  welcome  change  from  the  usual  paint  and  plaster  of 
Corfiote  churches.  It  is  the  only  Byzantine  church  in 
the  island,  and  probably  dates  from  the  twelfth  century. 

Shortly  after  passing  the  church  the  road  emerges 
from  this  comer  of  suburbs  upon  the  broad  marina, 
which  embraces  the  whole  wide  curve  of  the  bay. 
This  is  infinitely  the  finest  approach  to  the  town,  with 
all  the  glories  of  the  Straits  on  the  right,  and  the  forts 
in  front.  I  can  strongly  recommend  it  for  sunsets. 
It  is  always  regrettable  when  hot  weather  stops  this 
delightful  walk  to  town  and  one  must  cycle  the  dusty 
road,  or  endure  a  village  carozza,  to  get  there. 

But  the  main  road  is  not  without  its  interests.  For 
the  novice  from  England  even  the  descent  of  the 
Gastouri  hill  is  an  experience.  There  is  not  much 
driving  in  Corfu.  The  horses  manage  all  that  them- 
selves, loose-reined  ;  the  man  on  the  box  does  a  violent 
bit  of  steering  on  occasion,  and  uses  his  whip  and  the 
motor-horn  when  necessary  to  clear  the  road  of 
peasants.  The  vehicle  goes  swinging  round  the  sharp 
and  badly  surfaced  zig-zags  at  a  good  swift  downhill 

97  H 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


trot,  and  by  the  wisdom  of  the  horses  comes  to  no  grief. 
One  meets  the  town  carriages  returning  thus  in  the 
evening  without  lamps.  Many  corners  are  unwalled 
or  have  deep  drops  into  vineyards. 

Of  course,  this  soon  ceases  to  be  remarkable  or 
exciting,  but  the  infinite  variety  of  the  road  traffic  is 
not  staled  by  custom,  and  I  always  enjoyed  the  drive 
thoroughly. 

From  the  foot  of  the  hill  we  are  on  the  "  grand 
trunk  road  "  of  the  southern  half  of  the  island,  and  it  is 
full  of  pictures.  There  are  bevies  of  peasant  women 
going  to  work,  or  to  market  with  the  fruits  of  the  season 
on  their  heads ;  or  later,  laden  with  autumn  gleanings 
of  fodder  and  firewood.  These  are  pleasant  family 
groups — the  donkey's  wide  load  making  a  capital 
lounge  for  the  baby ; — a  black-robed  priest  on  a 
narrow  white  horse,  all  adorned  with  his  week's 
marketing  of  cotton  bundles  and  coloured  sacks 
and  leeks  and  crockery ; — an  old  man  draped  in  multi- 
tudinous blue  rags,  tending  a  red  cow  by  the  wayside  ; — 
a  colony  of  nomad  Albanians  on  hire  for  the  olive 
harvest,  their  beds  on  the  backs  of  the  neat  Httle 
women,  the  men  with  hoe  on  shoulder  and  lordly  in 
enormous  shaggy  cloaks.  There  were  always  beautiful 
colour  and  movement,  and  a  fascinating  variety  of 
costume,  and  often  some  funny  incident  of  traffic  or 
accident  to  be  noted. 

Nearer  town  there  would  be  great  herds  of  milk- 
goats  coming  out  from  their  daily  pilgrimage  of  the 

98 


By  the  Road-side 


streets ;  and  little  pyramids  of  cauliflowers  and  turnips 
brought  from  adjoining  market  gardens  for  sale  by  the 
roadside,  and  primitive  bottegey  seemingly  the  meeting 
places  for  animals  as  much  as  men.  Donkeys,  cows, 
goats  and  fowls  collected  round  the  rude  table  of  one 
especially — a  proper  club  for  them  it  seemed. 

It  was  useless  to  try  and  hurry  along  this  road,  except 
in  the  empty  hours  of  early  afternoon,  for  peasants  and 
their  charges  are  not  to  be  hastened  ;  they  have,  more- 
over, no  rule  of  the  road,  and  slowly  change  their  mind 
in  the  middle.  They  think  a  bicycle  can  stand  still 
as  easily  as  a  donkey,  and  a  bicycle  bell  never  has  any 
effect  on  primitive  people.  In  Corfu  one  must  shout 
"  Bross,  am  Bross  J  "  with  great  vigour,  and  then  they 
consider  a  move,  though  probably  leaving  their  donkey 
broadside  on.  Goats  are  the  only  things  that  always 
make  way. 

In  springtime  the  blossom  is  wonderful  in  the  flat 
meadows  about  the  lagoon,  where  the  market  gardens 
are ;  ditches,  not  fences,  divide  the  land,  so  the  view 
is  not  broken,  and  the  peach-trees  vanish  into  a  cloud- 
like distance  of  pink,  backed  by  the  blue  line  of  Albanian 
hills.  In  the  late  autumn  large  herds  of  goats  and 
flocks  of  turkeys  are  led  among  the  vineyards  to  fatten 
for  the  winter  festas.  Such  delightful  scarecrows  are 
some  of  their  drovers !  And  on  the  wide  marshy 
meadows  where  the  English  made  a  racecourse  there 
arc  generally  some  Albanian  shepherds  with  their 
flocks — fine    primitive    pastoral    figures.     From    this 

99  H2 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


point  there  are  two  ways  to  town  :  straight  on  is  the 
back  way,  intricate  with  goats  and  children  and  small 
shops  and  stalls ;  the  other  is  round  to  the  right  by  the 
Albanian  village,  and  so  on  to  the  marina. 

Whether  from  persecution  or  crime  many  Albanians 
come  over  to  live  in  Corfu,  and  there  is  quite  a  large 
colony  here.  The  Albanians  are  probably  descendants 
of  the  ancient  Illyrians,  and  are  fine  soldiers.  They 
prefer  pastoral  to  agricultural  life,  and  opposite  Corfu 
their  hills  are  burnt  bare  for  pasturage.  The  men  are 
strong  highland-looking  fellows  and  have  a  fine  costume 
too.  They  wear  either  the  full  white  fustanella  (kilt), 
or  long  breeches  of  thick  felt -like  cloth  fitting  gaiter- 
vsdse  from  knee  to  foot,  ornamented  with  braided 
patterns  at  seams  and  waist.  They  all  have  wide 
scarves  or  leather  belts  stuck  thick  with  implements 
and  weapons,  and  over  their  sleeveless  vests  of  black 
or  white  (matching  the  breeches)  wear  a  covetable 
variety  of  blanket  coat  or  cloak,  usually  in  white  or 
grey  cloth,  that  might  be  a  blanket  made  of  goat's  hair. 
Some  of  these  coats  fit  smartly  to  the  waist,  with  slashed 
and  braided  sleeves,  and  very  full  and  short  kilted  skirts, 
while  others  are  more  in  full  cloak  form,  with  a  hood, 
and  braided  sleeves  buttoned  back.  Yet  another 
variety  has  long  hair,  so  that  it  seems  like  a  matted 
sheepskin,  but  is  really  a  manufactured  material. 
They  wear  the  tarbush,  but  would  prefer  to  be  Greek 
subjects,  as  they  consider  themselves  Greeks.  Doubtless 
many  have  good  reasons  for  not  returning  to  Albania. 

lOO 


The  Albanian 


The  Albanian  women  are  rather  small,  not  amply 
built  like  the  women  of  Corfu,  nor  beautiful  as  a  rule. 
They  have  a  very  neat  costume  of  dark  blue  cloth ; 
the  skirt  is  short  and  fully  gathered  from  a  wide  band 
fitting  right  down  on  to  the  hips,  and  this  adds  to  the 
small  and  girlish  appearance  of  their  figures.  They 
carry  burdens  on  their  shoulders,  not  their  heads,  so 
have  not  the  fine  carriage  of  our  islanders.  They 
wear  a  queer  little  cap  or  tiara,  usually  of  black  and 
white,  and  partly  composed  of  turban  twists.  It  seems 
remarkably  liable  to  disarrangement,  and  is  often  at 
the  rakish  angle  of  a  Glengarry  bonnet.  But  for  festas 
it  is  more  tiara-like,  and  stiff  with  silver  and  stitching. 

Though  warriors  immemorially,  the  Albanians  be- 
came as  peaceful,  in  Corfu,  as  any  other  inhabitant  of 
an  island  where  serious  crime  is  rare.  They  follow 
the  avocations  of  peace  in  town  and  country,  their 
picturesque  groups  adorn  the  cafes  about  the  harbour, 
and  doubtless  they  smuggle  as  guilelessly  as  the  natives. 
One  of  them,  a  witness  in  a  law  court,  when  asked  his 
trade  or  profession,  answered  calmly,  "  Contraband." 


lOI 


CHAPTER  V 

The  Kaiser's  Holiday 

BY  the  beginning  of  April  Corfu  v/as  all  astir 
to  welcome  her  exalted  visitor.  Not  only  did 
Athens  send  beautiful  mounted  guards  to  ride 
up  and  down  the  roads,  with  more  beautiful  officers  to 
see  they  did  it,  but  for  some  weeks  preceding  the  arrival 
of  the  Kaiser  foot  soldiers  appeared  like  mushrooms 
all  over  the  place,  and  extra  guards  made  the  usual 
easy  smuggling  impossible.  Those  men  must  have 
inventoried  every  olive  in  the  district,  I  think,  and 
during  the  imperial  visit  our  comings  and  goings  were 
quite  strictly  noted. 

Such  a  responsibility  is  a  Kaiser  that  the  roadside 
hedge  of  prickly  pear,  an  ancient  and  massive  growth 
along  the  road  to  town,  was  all  laid  bare  and  open ; 
and  there  was  a  kind  of  curfew  regulation  for  the 
closing  at  ten  o'clock  of  all  cafes  in  town,  which  fell 
rather  hardly  on  a  population  accustomed  to  sit  late 
after  the  heat  of  the  day. 

Personally,  in  Gastouri,  we  only  felt  the  closing  of  a 
right  of  way  through  the  narrow  slip  of  hillside  (it  is 
called  in  German  The  Park)  connecting  the  palace  with 
the  shore.  We  were  now  cut  off  from  some  of  our  most 
delightful  rambles  southward  along  the  coast,  and  the 
fishers  of  Benizza,  whose  way  to  town  had  been  left 

I02 


Excitement 

open  under  the  Austrian  ownership,  were  obliged  to 
leave  their  woodland  track  for  a  long  steep  detour  by 
the  village  road.  For  now  gates  and  high  iron  wire, 
and  a  guard  of  twenty-two  gendarmes  took  the  place 
of  a  perfunctory  hedge  which  before  had  marked  the 
boundaries. 

With  many  imported  workmen,  Gastouri  had  been 
busy  making  an  artesian  well,  repairing  the  palace,  and 
building  a  large  and  strikingly  plain  annexe  down  the 
landward  side  of  the  hill.  Never  had  easy-going  Corfu 
so  hastened  to  get  things  finished  in  time,  and  we 
wondered  if  the  annexe-d  portion  of  the  suite  caught 
many  colds. 

As  the  Kaiser  approached,  the  atmosphere  began  to 
hum  with  rumour,  and  continued  to  do  so  until  the 
Imperial  presence  was  withdrawn.  Some  rumours  were 
serious  and  some  were  comic,  some  were  credible  and 
some  were  wild — that  King  Edward  must  also  have  a 
palace  in  Corfu,  since  he  could  not  be  outdone  by  the 
Kaiser ;  he  was  going  to  have  it  over  in  the  west  by 
San  T'odera,  and  Queen  Alexandra  too ;  she  had 
bought  Pelleka,  that  charming  little  coned  hill  with  the 
villages — King  George  was  at  last  going  to  receive  his 
long-neglected  Corfiote  subjects,  and  then  there  would 
be  a  ball,  and  so  on — rumours  of  spies  too,  and  of 
precautions  against  them. 

King  George  of  Greece,  the  Crown  Prince  and 
Princess,  with  other  members  of  the  royal  house,  were 
in     residence,     and    the   little   town    made   gay   and 

103 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


pretty  preparations  for  the  Kaiser's  arrival ;  while  all 
the  peasants  flocked  to  greet  first  their  King  and  then 
their  visitor.  The  landing  stairs  were  richly  decorated 
in  Oriental  style,  and  the  whole  front  of  the  esplanade 
was  arcaded  with  rose  wreaths  and  greenery  of  very 
charming  design  by  Mr.  GiaUina. 

Now  was  it  not  sad,  when  everything  in  the  island 
was  so  determinedly  gay,  that  the  weather  should  be 
so  sulky  !  Heavy  clouds,  with  drenching  rain,  swept  the 
island  for  days  beforehand,  and  on  the  eve  of  the  arrival 
culminated  in  a  thunderstorm  accompanied  by  hail. 
Luckily  the  paper  roses  were  weather-proof,  but  the 
festa  costumes  of  the  waiting  crowds  must  have  suffered, 
and  only  a  short  luU  allowed  the  imperial  motors  time 
to  reach  the  Achilleion,  after  the  family  and  official 
welcomes  in  town. 

We  had  seen  the  Hohenzollern  pass  close  under  us 
in  the  morning ;  a  fierce  and  business-like  man  of  war 
very  close  behind,  and  both  steaming  most  strenuously. 
A  great  thundering  of  guns  soon  after  announced 
their  arrival. 

Old  Dimitri,  who  was  prevented  from  any  further 
sight-seeing  by  the  weather,  went  about  in  deep 
childish  disappointment,  muttering,  "  If  the  weather 
were  a  man  I  would  kill  him,  I  would  kill  him."  While 
Sokrate,  the  village  idiot,  was  overheard  to  remark 
more  philosophically  to  the  heavens,  "  Aye,  Rain, 
rain  then  !     It  is  your  right." 

So  it  rained,  and  the  illuminations  and  fireworks 

104 


The  Achilleion 


were  delayed  for  days  ;  and  when  the  village  assembled 
at  the  Achilleion  gates,  fat  Pei  Petti  slipped  in  the  mud 
and  dropped  his  bouquet  and  his  dignity  together 
before  the  imperial  motor,  and  Corfu's  charms  were 
lost  in  mist  and  mud. 

Gastouri  was,  of  course,  particularly  interested  in 
the  visitors  :  more  intimately  interested,  so  to  speak ; 
for  the  village  men  had  been  working  in  palace  and 
grounds,  and  the  maidens  carrying  water  and  materials 
there,  and  the  householders  storing  furniture  and 
effects.  Also  Gastouri  knew  from  experience  the 
commercial  value  of  a  Court  in  residence.  The  village 
welcome  was  pretty  to  see  even  under  the  grey  skies, 
and  the  new  arrivals  seemed  to  think  so  too.  Princess 
Louise  looked  particularly  interested  in  all  that  passed. 

Warships  of  several  nationalities,  English,  Austrian 
and  Greek,  had  come  into  Corfu's  beautiful  bay  to 
greet  the  Kaiser,  and  with  these  he  was  much  occupied 
during  the  first  days  of  his  visit.  The  first  morning 
he  visited  each  in  turn  in  correct  uniform  as  admiral, 
with  quick  changes  between  on  the  Hohenzollern.  The 
thunder  of  their  salutes  as  he  boarded  and  left  each 
vessel  was  constantly  awaking  the  island,  and  we 
thought  the  imperial  holidays  were  to  be  indeed 
strenuous.  However,  the  island  peace  soon  returned, 
warships  steamed  away,  and  the  Kaiser  with  his  family 
spent  their  days  in  long  motor  tours,  or  walking  among 
the  olive  woods  and  fields  of  the  near  country. 

In  company  of  a  numerous  suite,  and  with  flying 

105 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


squadrons,  so  to  speak,  of  gendarmes  in  advance  among 
the  vineyards,  the  first  imperial  walk  was  attempted. 
(History  does  not  report  what  courtly  feet  suffered  from 
the  unaccustomed  rocky  paths.)  But  in  a  few  days 
the  Kaiser  and  his  consort  were  wandering  practically 
alone  through  the  woods  and  by  the  cottages  and 
orchards,  in  friendly  acquaintanceship  with  the  peasants, 
and  doubtless  rejoicing  in  the  simple  courtesy  which 
made  such  freedom  possible. 

The  Kaiserin,  with  Princess  Louise,  often  walked  in 
the  village  at  evening,  invariably  carrying  a  hand 
camera,  and  always  finding  use  for  it  among  the  groups 
of  women  about  the  well,  and  family  parties  returning 
from  work.  The  Kaiserin  always  wore  simple  dresses 
of  walking  length,  so  the  often  alarming  steepness  of 
the  woodland  paths  and  short  cuts  never  checked  her 
explorations. 

The  Achilleion  is  really  almost  a  mountain  home. 
Built  high  on  the  northern  shoulder  of  Sta.  Kyria  Ki,  it 
commands  unsurpassed  views  over  land  and  Straits,  and 
is  itself  a  gleaming  white  landmark  for  half  the  island. 

From  its  airy  terraces  nearly  the  whole  extent  of  the 
Ionian  Straits  is  visible  to  the  east,  while  northward 
lie  town  and  forts  and  a  wonderful  inlay  of  sea  and 
mountain  : — The  beautiful  bay  of  Govino,  backed  by 
the  fine  severe  line  of  Spartile's  cliffs  and  peaks  which 
cuts  across  the  north  end  of  Corfu,  and  beyond  this 
again  the  towering,  shouldering  ranges  of  Epiros, — the 
Acroceraunian  mountains, — white  for  half  the  year. 

io6 


THE     VILLA     ACHILLEION     (WEST     FRONT). 


The   Achilleion 


To  the  west,  the  undulating  olive-covered  land  is 
backed  by  little  hills,  from  which  Pelleka  and  S.  Giorgio 
beyond  it  are  distinguished  by  their  striking  form.  The 
view  is  terminated  by  the  great  mass  of  Santi  Deka, 
that  mountain  of  beautiful  mists  and  wonderful 
atmosphere,  rising  beyond  the  deep  gorge  of  Gastouri. 

The  Achilleion  Palace  was  built  for  the  late  Empress 
Elizabeth  of  Austria  in  1890-91.  It  is  in  modern 
Renaissance  style  by  Raffaelo  Carito,  of  Naples,  and  the 
decorations  are  in  imitation  of  Pompeii.  It  is  really 
rather  painful  as  a  work  of  art.  Internally  there  is  no 
colour  scheme ;  externally  the  place  looks  a  misfit. 
But  its  site  is  superb  and  the  grounds  are  charming. 
Sta.  Kyria  Ki  is  too  steep  to  accommodate  its  entire 
bulk  at  one  level,  so  the  sea  front  is  two  storeys  above 
the  main  south  door.  At  the  higher  level  is  a  beautiful 
terrace  of  great  palms,  which  commands  almost  the 
whole  range  of  the  views.  The  breeze  is  fresh  under 
the  rustle  of  fronds,  and  the  sea  never  looks  bluer  than 
between  their  greenery  ;  cool  ivied  arcades  flank  it 
and  flowers  cover  the  ground.  The  statue  of  the  dying 
Achilles  (by  Herter)  gleams  whitely  in  the  midst. 
Less  admirable  sculpture  adorns  the  adjoining  terrace 
of  the  muses  on  the  seafront  of  the  palace,  and  some 
scenes  from  Greek  story  and  song  painted  on  the 
verandah  walls  are  really  very  primitive  indeed, 
somehow  reminding  one  of  the  Sunday  school  illus- 
trations of  one's  youth. 

As  one  descends  towards  the  shore  the  garden  ceases 

107 


An  Artist  in   Corfu 


and  the  grounds  are  almost  left  to  nature ;  the  path 
zig-zags  steeply  through  the  shade  of  olives,  almonds, 
oranges,  lemons,  oleander,  syringa  and  all  the  easy 
growth  of  the  island.  There  are  a  few  patches  of 
scarlet  lilies  and  flowers  of  strong  growth  among  the 
wilder  vegetation,  but  mostly  the  beauties  are  Corfu's 
own  :  deep-toned  cypresses,  and  rich  colours  of  orange 
trees,  and  fairy  lightness  of  blossom  among  the  woods, 
and  always  the  gleam  of  Albania's  snows  over  the 
wonderful  blue. 

A  statue  of  the  late  Empress  of  Austria  now  replaces 
that  of  a  banished  Heine  in  a  little  temple  half-way  to 
the  sea,  and  a  colossal  triumphant  Achilles  has  just 
been  erected  at  the  end  of  the  terraces.  Discreetly 
hidden  in  trees  and  grotto  is  the  artesian  well,  which 
brings  such  an  enviable  gush  of  water  for  the  palace 
use,  and  the  pulse  of  which  sends  a  throb  of  modernity 
through  the  mediaeval  atmosphere. 

In  a  land  where,  at  the  end  of  summer,  wine  is 
cheaper  than  water,  and  where  animals  even  die  of 
drought  in  a  bad  year,  it  is  indeed  a  happy  Kaiser  who 
can  afford  water  in  abundance  even  for  his  garden. 

But  the  flowers  which  can  endure  unwatered  give 
flower-lovers  small  reason  for  complaint  in  Corfu. 
Stocks,  carnations,  roses,  mignonette,  wallflowers, 
irises,  sunflowers,  chrysanthemums,  peonies,  all  flourish 
with  little  care,  and  the  wild  flowers  are  quite  un- 
countable. There  is  such  a  wealth  of  flowering  trees, 
too,  all  the  blossoms  from  almond,  the  first,  to  the  last, 

1 08 


The  Achilleion 


quince.  Splendid  magnolias ;  syringas  snowy  with 
blossom ;  oleanders  in  masses  of  colour ;  acacias ; 
the  Judas-tree's  solid  pink  against  the  hills ;  flaming 
pomegranates  dotted  casually  with  nespoles  and  other 
fruit-trees  among  the  vineyards.  Really  a  set  garden 
is  a  superfluity  of  beauty. 

Over  the  Kaiser's  land,  as  everywhere,  springs  the 
wild  wealth  of  blossom.  There  is  the  scent  of  hidden 
violets  under  the  trees,  with  a  glimmer  of  anemone 
stars  and  irises ;  there  are  many  of  our  English 
wildflowers  beside  stranger  growths  of  pitcher  plants 
and  orchis,  and  there  is  an  extraordinary  variety  of 
peas,  vetches,  and  clovers. 

Only  on  the  summit  terraces  wild  Corfu  is  banished, 
and  there  around  the  villa  elaborate  planning  evokes 
a  blaze  of  splendid  colour  during  the  imperial  visit. 
Wistaria  threads  the  marble  balustrades,  and  scarlet 
anemones  flame  against  them,  carnations  are  much 
favoured,  and  there  are  carpets  of  the  most  beautiful 
tulips  and  pansies,  and  more  oriental  carpets  of  ranun- 
culi and  nemesia  growing  with  eager  and  incredible 
profusion.  There  are  stocks  and  roses  and  arum  lilies 
and  forget-me-nots,  and  in  the  strong  light  and  shade 
of  the  palms  there  are  great  beds  of  cinerarias,  each 
massed  in  tones  of  one  colour  only,  and  almost  startling 
in  the  velvet  richness  of  their  blues,  when  one  had  in 
one's  mind  the  sea  distance  as  the  very  essence  of  colour. 

During  my  second  visit  to  Corfu  a  lucky  chance 
enabled  me  to  enjoy  the  best  weeks  of  the  garden. 

109 


An  Artist  in   Corfu 


Shortly  before  the  Kaiser  was  expected  I  had  received 
from  Berlin  my  permission  to  paint  in  the  Achilleion 
grounds.  But  I  scarcely  hoped  to  get  what  I  wanted 
from  it,  for  the  flowers  seem  planned  to  open  as  the 
Kaiser  arrives  and  to  die  when  he  departs,  so  I  thought 
only  buds  and  seed  pods  would  be  my  portion. 

However,  only  a  few  days  before  the  expected  arrival, 
and  when  the  garden  was  all  ready  and  waiting,  Kaiser 
William's  holiday  was  cancelled — I  believe  Parliament 
needed  looking  after,  and  it  was  not  considered  ad- 
visable to  be  so  far  from  home — so  I  was  left  to  enjoy 
undisturbed  the  whole  cycle  of  the  garden's  unfolding 
in  perfection  of  spring  weather.  I  wish  I  could  tell 
you  what  that  atmosphere  is  really  like.  The  flowers 
really  look  as  though  they  enjoyed  growing  in  Corfu 
more  than  anywhere  else. 

On  the  Kaiser's  few  yards  of  coast  there  is  a  tiny 
landing-place,  just  big  enough  for  a  boat  or  small 
launch,  and  beside  it  a  bathing  hut  on  piles,  and  an 
electric  power  station.  Ignoring  the  last,  the  coast  is 
very  bonny  here  ;  there  is  that  exquisite  finish  and 
gracious  perfection  of  form  which  is  always  so  satisfying 
in  Corfu ;  and  the  Straits  are  always  wonderful. 
Olives  drop  almost  over  the  little  lapping  waves,  their 
foliage  spreads  up  to  the  fine  crags  of  Kyria  Ki.  A 
mile  or  two  to  the  south  lies  the  little  village  of  Benizza ; 
on  the  shore  below  towering  S.  Stavro.  Hardly  to  be 
distinguished  in  former  years,  and  now  only  divided 
by  a  high  wire  fence,  the  small  holdings  of  the  peasants 

no 


Benjie 


lie  on  either  side  the  Kaiser's  land,  their  owners 
working  daily  so  close  to  this  spirit  of  modern  Europe, 
yet  in  life  and  thought  at  some  century's  remoteness. 

Concerning  the  importance  of  Emperors,  I  think  it 
was  Cipi  told  us  this  story  of  Urania,  who  lives  in  a  hut 
along  the  road  by  the  oil  magazine. 

When  the  Kaiserin  went  for  a  walk  she  was  usually 
accompanied  by  two  little  brown  dachshunds,  which 
marched  in  most  soldierly  discipline  before  her. 
One  day,  while  we  were  away,  E.'s  great  peasant  dog 
Benjie,  doubtless  in  need  of  exercise,  accosted  these 
retainers  with  his  usual  blundering  friendliness.  He 
probably  looked  very  large  and  alarming,  and  there 
was  a  prompt  rush  of  gendarmes  armed  with  rock, 
and  with  the  little  swords  which  are  drawn  so  readily 
on  a  dog.  Whereupon  Urania  ran  forth  to  Benjie's 
aid,  crying,  "  Hold  !  It  is  the  dog  of  Count  Dousmani." 
And  the  Emperor  was  afraid  then.  So  Benjie  did  not 
die. 

The  Kaiser's  brown  motor-cars,  matching  the  brown 
and  gold  of  his  liveries,  and  with  pretty  silver  bugle 
calls,  were  soon  well  known  on  all  the  passable  roads  of 
the  island.  Taking  into  consideration  the  unsophis- 
ticated ways  of  the  peasants,  who  take  no  notice  of  a 
bicycle  call,  and  of  their  animals,  which  know  no  rule 
of  the  road,  the  entire  absence  of  accidents  was  remark- 
able, especially  when  the  mile-long  hills  and  passes  are 
considered,  with  their  broken  surfaces  and  alarming 
corners. 

Ill 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


Corfu  imported  an  Italian  opera  company  for  a 
special  season  when  the  Kaiser  came.  As  every  one 
has  a  box,  and  the  repertoire  is  extremely  limited,  the 
entertainment  is  more  of  social  than  musical  interest, 
though  this  little  company  gave  some  of  the  old 
favourites  quite  creditably. 

It  is  a  nice  little  theatre  and  several  gala  performances 
were  given,  and  attended  by  King  George  of  Greece 
and  various  members  of  the  royal  families.  On  these 
occasions  the  simple  Corfiotes  applauded  at  their  own 
good  pleasure,  without  waiting  for  the  customary 
royal  assent.  This  may  have  been  in  the  nature  of  a 
hint  to  their  King  that  they  do  not  see  enough  of  him 
to  know  better.  Except  for  family  parties  and  strictly 
official  presentations,  there  was  no  royal  entertaining. 
Doubtless  the  enormous  German  suite,  totalling  150 
I  believe,  reinforced  by  the  smaller  Greek  suite,  held 
a  sufficiency  of  society.  But  Gastouri  did  its  part  of 
entertaining,  for  after  much  drilling  the  village  school- 
children came  to  the  gate  of  the  AchiUeion  and  sang 
the  German  national  anthem.  A  little  serenade  which 
so  pleased  the  Kaiser  that  he  encored  it. 

The  customary  dances  of  the  spring  festas  were  being 
held  in  all  the  villages,  and  on  a  certain  Sunday  Gas- 
touri was  invited  to  send  a  selection  of  its  best  dancers 
up  to  the  AchiUeion.  However,  the  village  "  masters 
of  ceremonies "  courteously  but  firmly  dechned ; 
firstly,  because  the  absence  of  so  many  would  spoil 
the  dance  for  all  the  village,  and  more  seriously  because 

112 


The  Departure  of  the  Kaiser 

the  selection  of  the  fairest  dames  was  a  task  too  risky 
and  invidious  for  such  near  connections  to  undertake  ! 

Variations  of  this  story  having  swiftly  flown  about 
the  town  and  district,  with  added  rumours  of  the  gifts 
which  the  Kaiser  had  intended  distributing  to  the 
villagers  on  this  occasion,  a  great  assemblage  of  the 
curious  flocked  to  Gastouri  on  the  Sunday  afternoon, 
carriage  hire  rose  to  truly  imperial  rates,  and 
invading  hordes  cleared  the  village  bottegas  to  their 
last  crumb,  and  of  course  crowded  out  the  native 
dancers.     Naturally  the  Kaiser  did  not  appear. 

On  the  following  Sunday  he  was  to  depart ;  bidding 
farewell  to  Gastouri  and  going  on  board  on  Saturday 
afternoon.  So  when  a  great  thundering  of  guns  was 
heard  on  the  Sunday  morning,  we  concluded  that  was 
the  end  of  his  visit. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  we  strolled  up  to  the  village 
to  watch  the  dancing  as  usual,  and  I  had  just  settled 
comfortably  to  sketch  when  the  familiar  bugle  call 
was  heard,  and  dancers  and  spectators  scattered  in 
astonishment  as  the  Kaiser's  car  swung  swiftly  up  the 
street,  its  occupants  in  highest  good  humour  at  the 
joke  of  an  unexpected  return. 

An  officer  in  one  of  the  following  cars  halted  to  invite 
all  the  villagers  to  dance  at  the  Achilleion,  and  off  they 
trooped  at  once,  and  danced  for  an  hour  or  two,  to  the 
great  pleasure  of  the  Kaiser  and  his  party,  who  were 
keenly  interested.  Some  of  the  more  imaginative 
peasants  even  said  the  imperial  family  took  part  in  the 

113  I 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


dance.  At  any  rate  the  princess  had  a  beautiful  festa 
dress  embroidered,  in  preparation,  it  was  said,  for  a 
costume  ball  in  Berlin. 

There  is  no  doubt  the  Kaiser  and  his  family  were 
charmed  with  their  Corfu  holidays.  He  confirmed 
the  island's  reputation  by  calling  it  a  paradise,  and 
the  island  was  equally  charmed  with  him. 


114 


CHAPTER  VI 

Hot  Weather 

THEY  told  me  I  was  the  first  Englishwoman 
to  sleep  in  an  olive-tree  bed  :  if  they  knew, 
all  the  others  would  envy  me.  Corfu's 
heat  is  heavy,  and  when  it  became  impossible  to  sleep 
comfortably  indoors  we  invited  Babadoni  to  make 
bowers. 

The  first  year  the  old  man  was  so  busy  that  he  made 
us  one  only ;  so  E.  and  I  had  to  take  turns  for  cool 
nights,  but  on  my  second  visit  we  each  had  our  own. 
No  one  but  peasants  had  ever  thought  of  sleeping  in  a 
bower  before,  which  seems  strange  :  and  when  our 
friends  heard  of  it — only  another  example  of  English 
madness — there  was  a  general  chorus  of  alarm.  We 
would  get  fever,  also  it  was  so  unprotected.  They 
really  seemed  almost  to  expect  us  to  die  of  it  in  some 
way,  and  of  course  we  ought  to  have  been  afraid  of 
the  vague  things  of  the  night.  However,  we  were  not, 
we  enjoyed  our  bowers  thoroughly  and  flourished 
in  them. 

Imagine  !  Slipping  out  into  the  warm  whispering 
dusk  of  a  starry  summer  night,  feeling  one's  way  up 
the  sloping  trunk,  to  a  bower  of  olive  tree,  wind-moved ; 
where  the  breeze  and  stars  come  through  the  walls  of 
green,  and  moonlight  plays  with  the  veil  of  olive  leaves 

115  12 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


above,  and  rosy  dawn  enters  triumphant  from  over 
the  Straits. 

Babadoni  is  a  very  dear  friend  of  mine,  of  an  ancient 
and  dignified  order  of  peasants.  All  summer  long  he 
Uves  alone  in  a  hut  about  half-way  down  to  the  sea  ; 
and  on  Sundays  and  festas  he  comes  to  call,  has  a  cup 
of  coffee,  or  a  Cognac  and  cake,  sits  and  talks  awhile  on 
the  vineyard  wall  or  by  the  hammocks,  then  quietly 
does  any  odd  jobs  of  tidying,  pruning  and  such-like 
that  he  sees  are  needing  him. 

He  delighted  in  making  our  bowers — barraka 
is  the  right  term, — and  did  them  very  charm- 
ingly. 

A  suitable  olive  is  the  first  necessity,  one  with  firm 
trunks  widespread  about  six  or  eight  feet  from  the 
ground.  On  these  a  foundation  of  other  trunks  and 
branches  is  fixed,  with  support  from  a  corner  post  or 
two  in  the  earth,  if  necessary,  and  on  these  again  a 
foot  or  two  of  green  myrtle,  broom,  heath  or  any 
springy  twigs  from  the  ground  around  is  carefully  laid 
down.  Here  ends  the  simplest  form  of  barraka.  But 
ours  were  continued  with  tents  or  canopies  of  reeds 
and  loose-woven  twigs  about  the  head  for  privacy,  and 
completed  by  grass  mats,  on  which  our  sheets  were 
spread  every  evening.  Rough  steps,  stuck  in  and  on 
the  trunk,  led  up,  and  as  the  beds  faced  the  centre  of 
the  olive-tree  they  were  reasonably  screened  from  stray 
peasants  taking  short  cuts. 

I  cannot  describe  to  you  the  joy  of  being  allowed  the 

ii6 


A  Bower 

freedom  and  space  of  the  night,  of  feeling  part  of  the 
wonderful  out-of-doors. 

The  neighbours  were  partly  right  in  thinking  it 
unprotected.  The  first  barraka  was  a  good  shout's 
distance  from  the  house — beyond  the  nearest  vineyard. 
I  was  the  first  to  experiment,  and  it  was  decreed  that 
Benjie,  our  quite  adequate  watch-dog,  should  be  in 
charge.  Benjie  always  began  well,  but  with  great 
regularity  he  shortly  vanished,  and  after  a  time  we 
found  that  old  Dimitri,  the  cook,  considered  his  hens 
less  capable  of  self-defence  than  we,  and  tempting 
the  dog  back  every  evening,  chained  him  by  the  hen 
house  at  the  back-door. 

However,  we  never  needed  a  protector.  The  only 
thing  that  disturbed  was  an  occasional  thunder-storm, 
and  once  a  snake,  which  took  possession  of  E.'s  bed, 
which  she  courteously  gave  up  to  it  for  the  night. 

Of  course  we  could  not  but  arise  with  the  dawn. 
It  seemed  natural  and  inevitable,  as  I  suppose  it  seems 
to  the  birds.  Santi  Deka  *  behind  us  made  magic 
with  golden  and  rosy  mists  about  its  crags,  and  we 
hastened  to  bathe  before  it  was  too  hot. 

We  literally  lived  out  of  doors  now,  only  going  in 
to  dress,  and  for  midday  heat  when  no  outdoor  shade 
seemed  deep  enough. 

The  hammocks  hang  just  beyond  the  courtyard  wall 
(it  is  rather  an  eastern  courtyard,  like  the  compounds 
of  Madras  it  has  an  imposing  barred  iron  gate  in  front, 

•  A^toi  Ae«ra. 
117 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


and  a  large  unfilled  opening  at  the  side),  between  four 
great  olive  trunks,  and  this  summer  drawing-room  is 
roofed  with  a  dense  woven  thatch  of  wistaria-green 
when  the  tasseled  silken  pavilion  of  spring  has  vanished. 
There  are  chairs,  and  a  little  unlocked  green  cupboard 
for  cushions  and  work.  The  long  lazy  afternoons  are 
spent  there,  half  asleep  in  the  heat ;  and  there,  too,  we 
sit  till  bedtime,  with  the  tropic  whirr  of  insects  on 
the  air,  and  fireflies  weaving  their  busy  little  rhymes 
over  the  vineyards. 

We  dine  out  of  course,  on  the  east  terrace,  which 
is  cool  behind  the  house  in  the  evenings,  and  over  the 
Straits  far  below  stray  the  wonderful  colours  of  dusk 
and  moonlit  night. 

About  sunset  time  I  used  to  go  down  seaward  to  the 
arcadian  property  of  old  Babadoni,  and  paint  till  dusk. 
Very  hot  that  hill,  even  then,  baked  through  by  the 
morning  sun.  The  dear  old  man  was  not  always  ready 
to  sit  for  me,  for  he  was  exceedingly  busy  and  active, 
in  spite  of  his  years,  but  I  always  found  a  little  table 
and  stool  set  ready  for  my  work,  and  some  arrangement 
of  ripe  nespoles  or  mulberries  for  my  refreshment. 
He  was  quite  proud  of  being  painted,  and  now  we 
correspond ;  that  is,  I  send  him  picture  postcards,  and 
he  sends  me  messages  by  friends. 

When  I  was  leaving  Corfu  he  came  to  bid  farewell 
with  a  fragrant  posy  and  a  huge  basket  of  lemons, 
such  beauties.  Deck  passengers  of  course  always  carry 
their  food,  and  it  was  a  kind  thought  for  hot  weather 

ii8 


Babadoni 

travelling.  Oiir  party  enjoyed  those  lemons  all  the 
way  home. 

Babadoni  had  quite  a  considerable  property  scattered 
about  in  bits,  and  some  very  fertile  patches,  so  his 
Sunday  offerings  of  fruit  were  always  deUcious,  and 
his  sheltered  garden  seemed  able  to  produce  one  or 
two  carnations,  roses  or  stocks  for  us  on  any  day  of 
the  year. 

Dimitri,  the  cook,  was  of  quite  a  different  caste  to 
old  Adoni  (Babadoni— Papadoni— gaffer— daddy— 
Adoni).  Dimitri  is  a  townsman,  a  family  relic  who  only 
followed  his  patrons  into  the  despised  country-house 
in  extreme  old  age  and  incapacity.  His  mind  is  that 
of  a  child,  and  his  appearance  that  of  a  vastly  over- 
blown and  rather  dilapidated  cherub.  Nature  has 
decreed  that  he  has  usually  a  hole  worn  through  the 
most  prominent  part  of  his  apron,  and  he  has  a  Hsp 
complicated  by  the  strong  Venetian  patois  of  the  town. 

It  was  occasionally  my  duty  to  wrestle  with  the 
household  affairs,  and  it  was  one  long  exercise  of 
patience.  The  most  harassed  and  unfortunate  house- 
wife in  England  has  no  conception  of  the  possibiHties 
of  accident,  damage  and  mistake  in  Corfu,  with  peasants 
raw  from  fields  and  huts,  and  no  well-stocked  shops 
to  mend  matters. 

Of  course  it  was  acknowledged  that  Dimitri's  hens 
got  far  more  than  their  fair  share  of  the  scraps,  while 
the  household  dogs  went  often  hungry,  so  one  of  our 
tasks  was  to  extract  from  Dimitri  enough  bread  for  a 

119 


An  Artist  in  CorjFu 


decent  meal.  Every  one  eats  bread  in  quantity  in 
Corfu.  Servants*  allowance  is  i  lb.  a  day  each,  and 
they  often  get  more.  While  Dimitri  was  making  his 
slow  pilgrimage  to  the  magazine  for  the  daily  allowance 
of  charcoal — now  becoming  a  very  laborious  business 
indeed  for  the  old  man — I  would  look  in  the  biggest 
cooking-pot,  search  the  disused  oven,  the  cupboard, 
and  other  hiding  holes,  and  generally  managed  to 
supplement  the  scanty  "  all  there  is,  Signorina  "  from 
his  secret  hoards.  But  of  course  there  was  always  the 
risk  that  I  might  be  taking  food  lawfully  belonging  to 
a  servant.  For  each  takes  his  or  her  whole  share  of 
whatever  is  provided,  and  if  they  cannot  finish  then 
and  there,  some  is  put  away  till  they  can  deal  with  it. 

There  was  a  certain  rather  terrible  table  drawer 
where  these  relics  usually  lurked,  a  mausoleum  of  dead 
dinners,  and  often  I  have  been  stopped  from  serving 
the  dogs  by  a  hasty  claim  from  one  or  other  of  the 
servants. 

Dimitri  after  a  festa  was  ofttimes  dreamy  and  un- 
intelligible, and  we  were  thankful  when  the  dinner 
came  up  as  it  was  meant.  On  one  occasion  he  did  send 
up  a  risotto  with  sugar  as  a  sweet  course,  and  he  was 
capable  of  forgetting  half  the  dinner.  He  was  at  his 
best  on  jamming  days — hot  mornings  when  cherries 
seemed  interminably  stony  and  strawberries  ridiculously 
small.  Then  his  only  duty  was  to  stir,  and  attend  to 
the  fornella  (even  that  he  would  forget  if  not  watched, 
— maddening  for  cake-making)  ;  so  with  time  to  spare 

120 


House-keeping 


and  one  free  hand  he  would  relate  legends  of  the  saints 
and  of  Corfu's  history. 

Dimitri  was  an  artist  in  all  the  southern  cookery, 
but  old  age  was  hard  upon  him  and  his  hand  was  no 
longer  sure.  It  was  really  time  he  was  set  aside  to 
moulder  quietly  away.  But  housekeeping  is  not  easy 
in  Corfu,  and  he  could  cook  very  well. 

His  cafo  d^O'pera  was  mayonnaise  sauce,  which  took 
him  a  whole  hour  to  make  and  was  evidently  one  of 
the  higher  mysteries  of  an  initiate  ;  for  he  would  often 
tell  of  a  very  skilled  cook  of  his  acquaintance  who  once 
spoiled  sixteen  eggs  in  making  one  mayonnaise  ! 

Southern  cookery  has,  I  think,  a  finer  finish  than  ours 
as  a  rule.  In  those  lands  the  lord  of  the  kitchen  is 
not  bothered  by  the|et-caeteras  of  cakes  and  sweet  things : 
they  are  the  department  of  the  confectioner  ;  there 
too  he  denies  all  knowledge  of  puddings,  which  are  his 
mistress's  concern.  So  he  simplifies  his  duties.  But 
within  his  own  limits  he  is  excellent.  What  northern 
cook  has  old  Dimitri's  feeling  and  patience  with  a  stew, 
or  his  unrivalled  touch  in  frying  ?  Though  he  is 
verging  on  dotage,  his  instinct  and  training  rarely  fail ; 
and  with  his  pan  hovering  over  a  handful  of  charcoal 
he  exemplifies  the  artistic  superiority  of  the  genuine 
craftsman  over  any  modern  combination  of  mechanism 
and  ingenuity. 

Corfiote  cookery  favours  the  Italian,  rather  than 
the  Turkish  taste  of  mainland  Greece.  Its  maccaronis 
and  vegetable  dishes  are  of  excellent  and  never-ending 

121 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


variety ;  and  E.  tells  of  a  certain  temporary  cook,  who, 
from  one  piece  of  meat — by  courtesy  a  steak — cooked 
a  new  and  palatable  dish  for  fourteen  meals. 

But  that  of  course  was  not  in  hot  weather. 

In  hot  weather,  milk,  meat  and  any  things  perish- 
able were  all  hung  in  a  basket  down  a  well — the  only 
cool  place.  They  had  to  be  down  a  drinking-well, 
moreover,  as  other  wells  had  no  locks.  Now  there  was 
a  large  serpent  which  also  lived  about  that  well,  and 
one  day  he  went  down  the  rope,  and  the  maids  having 
too  carelessly  tied  on  a  piece  of  meat,  he  dislodged  it 
into  the  water,  and  no  efforts  cotdd  recover  it.  So 
through  all  the  summer  one  of  the  best  and  nearest  drink- 
ing wells  had  to  be  regrettably  wasted  on  the  garden, 
and  laboriously  purified  at  the  end  of  the  drought. 

Corfu  suffers  very  much  from  drought  :  there  are 
few  permanent  rivers  and  springs,  and  presumably  the 
scattered  village  populations  have  not  capital  enough 
to  make  storage  from  the  winter  rainfall,  so  they  are 
often  in  sore  straits  if  summer  has  been  long  and  rains 
are  late.  Well  after  well  is  emptied,  till  the  parched 
animals  must  be  led  for  miles  in  search  of  a  drink,  and 
wine  is  cheaper  than  water.  In  really  bad  years  the 
animals  die,  of  course,  and  some  villages  are  abandoned. 

The  rich  herbage  of  Corfu  is  all  burnt  to  a  beautiful 
pale  gold  colour,  as  clear  as  lacquer,  and  the  few  head 
of  stock  from  each  peasant  house  are  massed  into  large 
herds  and  led  away  by  a  shepherd  to  wherever  water 
and  pasturage  can  be  found. 

122 


The   Drought  in   Corfu 

The  woodlands  are  curiously  still  and  empty  after 
all  the  olives  are  gathered  and  the  herds  gone.  The 
peasants  go  to  their  fields  at  early  dawn,  sleep  in  the 
shade  at  midday,  and  return  late  home ;  or  they  live 
altogether  in  huts  on  their  properties  as  soon  as  the 
earth  is  dug  and  fever  gone  from  the  lower  lands. 

About  July  Corfiotes  consider  it  is  warm  enough  to 
bathe,  and  that  and  boating  are  their  chief  recreations 
for  the  summer.  A  very  few  famiUes  migrate  to  their 
country  homes  for  the  hot  weather,  but  most  prefer 
to  endure  the  town,  where  they  become  more  and  more 
nocturnal  as  the  heat  increases. 


123 


CHAPTER  VII 

Autumn 

SUMMER  passes  with  the  first  rain,  due  to 
arrive  some  time  after  the  vintage,  in  October. 
But  it  is  of  no  tropical  regularity,  and  has  been 
known  even  to  precede  the  vintage  work  with  a  thorough 
drenching. 

In  1909  the  first  rain  came  abnormally  early : 
came  up  with  a  thunderstorm  in  the  night,  and  burst 
at  dawn,  driving  us  indoors  with  hastily  gathered  bed- 
ding. Many  times  in  that  unusual  season  did  we  lie 
listening  to  a  slow  circling  storm,  risking  it  to  the  last 
moment  in  our  olive-tree  bowers,  and  often  were  we 
finally  caught  in  the  warm  heavy  splash. 

The  rain's  first  touch  banishes  for  ever  the  golden 
transparency  of  burnt  summer.  Something  is  astir 
under  the  beautiful  dry  skeleton  of  last  season's  herbage  ; 
and  through  it  in  a  few  days  a  down  of  fairest,  lightest 
green  is  coming  to  life.  At  first  it  is  only  a  gleam  of 
silver  alloy  through  the  gold  ;  but  no  sunshine  now  can 
banish  it,  and  soon  it  is  all-conquering  green. 

Green  buds  open  daily  on  grey  and  spiny  thorns, 
and  the  few  surviving  flowers  of  summer's  drought? 
monk's-hood,  scabious,  odd  stars  of  myrtle,  jasmine, 
oleander,  etc.,  with  abundance  of  thistles  and  some 
vari-coloured  umbels,  are  soon  buried  in  the  joyous 

124 


September  in  Corfu 


leap  of  many  spring-like  blossoms,  till  all  thoughts  of 
autumn  are  prorogued  for  a  month  at  least,  and  the 
season  verily  appears  as  a  topsy-turvy  spring.  There 
is  such  a  bursting  of  fresh  life  everywhere ;  herbage 
and  shrubs  renewing  their  youth ;  peasants  busy  with 
greenest  crops ;  Uttle  lambs  following  each  family 
party  to  the  fields  ;  and  a  chorus  of  chattering  and 
warbling  birds  arriving  from  Epiros. 

The  heavy  summer  heat  is  gradually  replaced  by  a 
delicious  air  like  our  best  English  weather,  and  energy 
revives  sufficiently  to  plan  excursions. 

By  the  second  week  in  September  the  grey  velvet 
broom  stalks  showed  tiny  leaf-buds,  the  incense  plant 
hinted  at  its  coming  glory  of  gold,  the  various  heaths 
showed  colour,  the  first  cyclamen  appeared,  and 
mauve  autumn  crocus  outgrew  the  thin  grass.  A  week 
later  and  the  heaths  were  upstanding  rose  and  crimson  ; 
and  the  darling  kopelluli  (Httle  girls), — the  most  dainty 
and  winning  cyclamen,  were  tufting  all  the  walls  and 
stony  ways,  and  making  gay  their  chosen  vineyards. 
Michaelmas  daisies  and  purple  sea  lavender  were  on  the 
marshes ;  gingellies  were  being  gathered  and  dried, 
and  fresh  crops  of  sugar  beet,  sea  kale,  suchetti  and 
melanzani  were  ripe.  Driving  to  town  one  glimpsed 
a  golden  carpet  of  maize  drying  in  some  back-yard, 
or  a  group  of  variegated  pumpkins  making  a  pretty 
still-Hfe  group  on  a  warm  tiled  roof.  Vast  quantities 
of  tomatoes — at  about  3i  lb.  for  id.  (lo  lepta)  made 
fine  scarlet  patches  on  the  roofs  too.      They  are  split 

125 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


and  laid  out  to  dry  and  then  made  into  a  conserve  with 
salt  for  the  winter. 

The  daisies  are  of  quite  unbelievable  glory  at  this 
season,  in  woods  and  wastes  their  myriads  stand  a  foot 
from  earth  and  take  the  light  as  airily  as  cow  parsley. 

First  the  mauve,  then  the  white  autumn  crocus 
comes  out,  veritably  under  foot,  even  on  the  main 
road ;  for  there  is  no  end  to  Corfu's  audacity  of 
flowering.  By  the  end  of  the  month  we  can  go  down 
into  one  favoured  wood  where  the  wild  narcissus  grows  : 
truly  a  poet's  flower,  if  ever  was  one.  It  is  the  most 
fairylike  of  all  Corfu's  miniatures,  and,  with  its  scent, 
must  surely  come  from  some  finer  earth  than  ours. 

In  October  the  Japanese  medlar  (loquat)  opens  its 
pretty  blossoms  to  scent  the  air,  and  there  are  wild 
roses  and  lady's  tresses,  orchis  and  dahlias,  morning 
glory  and  chrysanthemums  and  jonquils  and  many 
another  fair  blossom ;  and  the  days  become  absurdly 
short  for  such  summer  array  and  warmth. 

In  November  we  go  down  to  another  wood  where 
real  snowdrops  spring  among  the  olive  roots.  No 
different  from  our  northern  flower,  though  rather 
slenderer. 

Many  of  these  flowers,  with  beautiful  roses,  carna- 
tions and  others,  last  through  the  tearing  autumn  gales 
and  live  to  greet  the  first  irises,  anemones  and  jonquils 
of  spring.  So  that  on  Christmas  Day  we  garnered  a 
posy  of  many  seasons.  There  was  a  cyclamen  from 
September  and  a  last  surviving  snowdrop.     There  were 

126 


The  Approach  of  the  Vintage 

February's  blue  irises  and  three  kinds  of  jonquil, 
cinqfoil,  mustard,  a  scrap  of  bugloss,  corn  marigold, 
orange  and  lemon  blossom,  yellow  vetch,  large  pink 
clover  (of  April  and  May),  ground  ivy,  scabious 
and  wild  roses,  but  no  violets ! 

We  have  now  outrun  autumn.     Let  us  go  back  to 
its  chief  event — the  vintage. 

Those  early  rains  enriched  the  vineyards  to  a  heavy 
crop,  very  beautiful  to  see.  We  half  lived  on  grapes 
before  the  vintage.  Afternoon  tea  was  a  leisurely 
stroll  through  one  vineyard  or  another  to  take  one's 
choice  of  the  dehcious  fruit — and  the  variety  is  as- 
tonishing even  in  these  small  estates.  The  deep  blue 
thick-skinned  wine-grapes  we  ignored,  for  they  would 
keep  a  month  or  two  after  the  vintage.  But  there  were 
rich  purple  grapes  and  delicate  mauve ;  sweet  little 
golden  amber  and  ice-green  varieties  with  tight-packed 
translucent  berries ;  huge  crimson  rothiti,  a  wonderful 
colour  with  the  sun  through  them  ;  and  most  dehcate 
of  all,  the  rose-crimson  robola,  a  glowing  wonder  of 
bloom  and  transparency.  These  were  all  scattered 
about  the  vineyards,  with  no  doubt  many  other  shades 
and  variations  known  only  to  a  native.  About  the 
houses  and  courts  were  muscatels  and  Hsabetta  and 
suchlike  specialities  for  the  table.  But  even  the 
commonest  are  delicious,  so  ripe  and  fresh.  Heaped 
dishes  of  the  varicoloured  fruit  adorned  each  meal, 
and  their  tints  added  to  the  gorgeous  colouring  of  the 
market  stalls. 

127 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


Vintage  begins  about  the  third  week  in  September, 
and  its  special  stir  and  excitement  are  felt  in  town  and 
country.  For  the  most  town-loving  of  Corfiotes  must 
then,  if  at  no  other  season,  visit  his  estates  to  see  to  the 
wine-making.  Town  is  emptied — country  becomes 
animated.  The  peasants  seem  to  undertake  the  vintage 
work  with  quite  an  appropriate  spirit  of  enjoyment ; 
the  proprietors,  perhaps  not  so  joyfully.  Many  of 
the  much-divided  estates  are  so  poor  as  barely  to  repay 
attention,  consequently  they  receive  none.  Their 
little  villas  are  so  primitive  and  neglected  that  to  our 
western  ideas  they  would  not  be  possible  even  for  a 
three  weeks'  camp  ;  and  the  owners  themselves,  when  in 
the  country,  relapse  into  ways  and  clothes  of  quite 
startling  antiquity. 

The  preparations  for  the  gathering  take  about  a 
week,  and  the  special  feeling  of  vintage  begins  when 
the  great  locked  doors  of  the  magazine  begin  to  stand 
open,  and  the  huge  vats  and  butts  are  dragged  out  for 
repairs  and  scouring.  As  the  oldest  wood  makes  the 
best  wine,  these  receptacles  are  caulked  and  patched 
and  bound  up  to  the  last  extremity,  and  then  water 
and  gravel  are  put  in  them,  and  for  a  day  or  two  they 
are  rolled  on  timbers  by  a  couple  of  men  in  the  court- 
yard. 

The  magazine — general  store,  lumber  and  box- 
room  of  the  establishment — is  meanwhile  cleared  and 
set  in  order,  vanishable  goods  removed  to  other  locked 
doors,  and  when  all  is  prepared  the  gathering  begins. 

128 


The  Gathering  of  the  Grapes 

It  is  most  exciting,  but  lasts  far  too  short  a  time. 
It  took  eight  women  three  days  to  harvest  the  Dous- 
mani's  grapes,  and  they  worked  quickly. 

It  is  still  very  hot  in  September,  and  a  vineyard  is 
hotter  than  any  other  piece  of  earth  ;  and  I  seemed  to 
spend  the  whole  of  those  three  days  racing  after  the 
quickly  moving,  often  vanishing  group. 

The  gathering  is  a  very  pretty  sight.  The  women 
are  still  in  their  light  summer  garments,  and  over  their 
white  wimples  wear  quantities  of  cloths  or  blanket  to 
keep  off  the  sun.  They  work  in  a  line  across  a  vine- 
yard, under  the  eye  of  an  overseer,  cutting  the  grape 
stalks  with  the  strong  curved  knives  which  they  carry 
stuck  in  the  back  of  their  girdles,  and  finding  time, 
in  spite  of  speed  and  heat,  for  a  lot  of  chattering  and 
some  munching. 

Under  the  drying  leaves  the  blue  wine  grapes  hang 
like  velvet.  The  vineyards  have  lost  their  summer 
greens  and  are  almost  russet  in  the  clear  sunlight. 
The  little  groups  of  women  fairly  twinkle  with  colour  as 
they  swiftly  strip  the  vines,  then  raising  the  wide  bloom- 
laden  baskets  to  their  heads,  go  with  easy  movement  up 
the  steps  and  terraced  hillsides  to  empty  their  burdens 
into  the  high  vats  in  the  magazine;  or,  if  distant,  into  a 
dusky  heap  in  olive  shade,  awaiting  a  donkey's  panniers. 

The  second  vat  is  nearly  full  by  the  end  of  the  first 
day's  gathering.  The  first  is  heaped  full,  and  from 
sheer  weight  of  fruit  the  must  begins  to  force  its  way 
through  the  primitive  bamboo  spigot. 

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Next  morning  a  strong,  lithe  young  man  begins  the 
treading.  A  shirt  is  his  sole  garment,  and  that  is 
knotted  to  his  thighs,  and  his  long  limbs  are  soon  deep 
crimson.  He  begins  by  carefully  treading  a  small  hole 
to  stand  in,  and  then  works  into  it  the  grapes  piled 
above  the  rim.  The  spigot  is  of  course  uncorked  now, 
and  the  must  comes  out  in  a  strong  opaque  crimson 
spurt.  It  is  drawn  off  into  another  large  vat  by  means 
of  a  tin  "jar"  measure  standing  in  a  long  wooden 
trough.  The  beautiful  colour  of  must  stains  the 
trough,  and  lacquers  the  tin,  and  seems  to  pervade  all 
the  dusky  half-light  of  the  magazine.  The  treader 
labours  down  and  down  in  the  great  vat,  till  his  scarlet 
face  vanishes  in  the  depths  and  only  two  crimson  and 
grape-spattered  hands  are  visible  on  the  rim.  He  lifts 
and  turns  the  pulpy  mass  with  a  board,  till  the  sound 
is  like  the  homely  slosh  of  a  wash-tub. 

It  is  very  hard  work  :  two  vats  a  day,  five  or  six 
hours'  treading  of  each  vat.  Now  and  again  the  man 
emerges,  moist  and  panting,  balances  his  turning- 
board  on  the  lofty  rim  of  the  vat  and  perches  there 
for  a  cigarette  and  a  chat  with  some  passing  acquaint- 
ance, or  peasant  bringing  his  toll  of  grapes. 

The  treader  is  paid  on  piece-work.  He  gets  6  lepta 
per  jar  of  must — about  half  a  drachma  an  hour,  or  six 
or  seven  drachmae  per  day,  and  his  food.  Very  high 
wages,  of  course,  for  the  work  is  skilled  as  well  as 
exceedingly  laborious.  Some  treaders  become  almost 
intoxicated  with  the  fumes  of  must. 

130 


Treading  the  Wine 


As  each  vat  is  finished,  Cipi,  the  overseer,  measures 
the  must  back  into  it  again  with  the  jar,  and  as  it  is 
for  red  wine,  the  skins,  stalks,  etc.,  are  all  left  in.  A 
heavy  wooden  lid,  weighted  with  stones,  is  floated  on 
top,  and  in  a  few  hours  all  the  leavings  have  risen  under 
it  into  a  solid  crust  through  which  the  liquid  is  audibly 
and  visibly  fermenting.  For  a  week  or  ten  days  the 
fermentation  goes  briskly  on,  sending  its  acid  aroma 
through  the  house  and  out  at  the  windows.  The 
fermented  must  is  then  drawn  off  into  the  butts,  which 
must  be  absolutely  full,  and  there  it  remains  still  fer- 
menting, for  a  month,  the  bung  holes  left  open  mean- 
while and  the  butts  carefully  replenished  every  few 
days.  The  skins,  etc,  are  wrung  through  a  press  to 
extract  the  remaining  must, — which  is,  of  course,  of 
second  quahty, — and  are  then  cast  out  in  a  heap,  to  be 
afterwards  burned  and  returned  to  the  land. 

The  ravished  vineyards  are  a  desolate  sight,  and  it 
was  sad  to  know  that  the  season  of  quite  unlimited 
grapes  had  now  passed.  We  had  carefully  "  bagged  " 
many  bunches  of  the  choicer  grapes  for  future  use. 
We  bagged  the  whole  pergola  of  lady's  finger  grapes 
in  the  court,  but  the  season  was  so  wet  that  they  did 
not  keep  as  they  ought  to  have  done.  The  bags  keep 
off  wasps  and  their  kin,  and  are  made  of  half  a  news- 
paper and  three  pins  and  tied  on  with  string — we  found 
the  Scotsman  was  the  toughest. 

There  are  several  by-products  of  vintage,  all  very 
delectable.     The  simplest  is  mustelevria,  a  very  deli- 

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cious  sweet  or  jelly  made  hy  boiling  fresh  must  to  half 
its  bulk  with  semolina  and  a  little  spice.  The  paste 
is  then  poured  out  on  plates,  stuck  with  a  few  almonds, 
and  either  eaten  fresh  or  cut  up  and  dried  for 
keeping. 

Another  little  industry  is  the  making  of  fig  cake  or 
sakofitus.  This  is  a  strictly  home  industry — the  peasants 
are  imported  and  made  to  wash  first,  and  one  does  not 
buy  sakofiti  in  the  market.  The  late  autumn  figs  are 
gathered  when  ripe,  torn  open  and  laid  on  some 
convenient  wall-top  to  dry  in  the  sun.  After  a  few 
days  they  are  taken  indoors  to  await  the  vintage.  They 
are  then  minced  finely  and  kneaded  in  a  trough  with 
new  must  and  coriander  and  black  pepper  and  a  bottle 
of  mastike  spirit  and  mixed  spices  "  to  taste."  The 
result  is  formed  into  buns  and  spread  to  dry  in  the  sun 
for  some  days.  It  is  then  well  wrapped  in  walnut  leaves 
and  stored  away  for  the  winter.  It  is  not  considered 
ripe  and  mellow  for  a  month  or  two,  and  when  well 
made  and  judiciously  flavoured  is  very  good. 

Ladies  are  busy  making  their  famous  preserves 
and  syrups  and  crystallisations  in  this  richest 
season  of  fruit.  Cooks  do  not  consider  sweets  and 
desserts  are  in  their  department — the  mistress  and  the 
confectioner  must  provide  them,  and  many  ladies  are 
experts  and  renowned  for  some  specialty.  One  may 
excel  at  orange-flower  preserve,  another  at  morella 
syrup  ;  from  Cephalennia  comes  a  very  elaborate  and 
highly    spiced   quince   cheese,    extremely   black    and 

132 


Winter  Stores 


sticky,  but  very  insinuating ;    or  a  delicious  conserve 
of  mastike  and  sugar  arrives  from  somewhere  else. 

In  a  few  days  the  household  has  recovered  its  wonted 
calm.  The  peasants  always  lose  their  heads  at  any  small 
deviation  from  routine,  and  of  course  the  excitement 
of  vintage  has  been  tremendous — so  many  strange 
people  about,  and  extra  meals  to  be  provided  at  ir- 
regular hours.  For  all  workmen,  even  plasterers  and 
suchlike  casuals  about  a  house,  must  be  fed. 

So  we  settle  down  again,  and  the  magazine  is  locked, 
and  begins  to  accumulate  its  winter  stores.  Strings 
of  tomatoes  are  hung  to  ripen,  and  about  a  hundred 
bunches  of  grapes  are  slung  on  bamboo  rods  across  the 
magazine  roof.  Heaps  of  potatoes,  onions,  sweet 
potatoes,  quinces  and  nuts  appear,  as  uncertain 
weather  drives  peasants  to  harvest  their  crops.  October 
is  called  "  finish-of-fruit  "  season,  and  certainly,  after 
the  earUer  abundance  on  the  market-stalls,  there  is  a 
sort  of  dullness,  though  grapes,  melons,  apples,  quinces 
and  pomegranates  remain  in  profusion  for  some  weeks 
to  come.  The  whole  range  of  autumn  vegetables 
gradually  takes  the  place  of  the  gaudier  fruits  of  Sep- 
tember. In  that  month  the  stalls  showed  a  wonderful 
medley,  great  baskets  of  ruddy  peaches  and  apricots, 
green  honey-sweet  figs,  grapes  of  every  degree,  apples, 
pears,  lemons,  sacks  of  walnuts,  almonds,  chestnuts, 
donkey-loads  of  reddest  tomatoes,  all  acting  as  chorus  to 
the  main  theme  of  yellow  melons.  Cartloads  of  melons 
stacked  in  sun  and  shade  on  the  stalls,  barricades  of 

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An  Artist  in  Corfu 


them  filling  the  little  piazza  in  the  town.  Monster 
long  yellow  fellows  they  are.  It  took  three  of  us  five 
days  to  eat  one.  Water-melons  also,  with  their  pleasant 
harmony  of  pink  and  green  slices. 

I  had  some  fun  painting  market  stalls  in  town,  about 
vintage  time.  It  was  very  hot  still  and  I  went  off 
in  Babazo's  absurd  little  trap,  directly  after  the  early 
bathe. — Babazo  lives  in  the  village  and  his  trap  is  very 
cheap  indeed,  and  so  we  endured  its  deficiencies ;  and 
Babazo  himself  shops  for  us  very  efficiently,  so  is  doubly 
useful,  and  his  bow  is  a  marvel  of  elegance.  But  to  travel 
by  him  is  far  from  luxury,  for  the  springs  are  lop-sided 
and  sometimes  nearly  make  one  seasick ;  there  is  no 
back  nor  side  to  the  seat,  and  a  painful  lack  of  cushion, 
so  that  the  drive  into  town  is  just  about  the  limit  of 
endurance. 

I  first  established  myself  at  the  big  cafe  by  the  sea- 
gate,  just  hoping  I  might  have  space  to  work.  But  lo! — 
the  kindest  consideration  from  all  around — a  chair  and 
table  at  my  disposal  almost  before  I  had  arrived,  and 
not  a  soul  allowed  to  hang  over  or  disturb  me.  The 
waiter  took  me  in  special  charge.  Sauntering  soldiers 
used  their  canes  on  anything  small  enough,  and  language, 
I  should  judge,  on  larger  intruders  who  pressed  too 
closely. 

At  the  fruit  stalls,  where  I  painted  later,  the  owners 
were  almost  jealous.  The  offered  seat  was  primitive 
enough,  but  their  best,  and  a  board  was  found  to  keep 
my  shoes  off  the  mud,  most  considerately ;   while  a 

134 


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The  Val  di   Ropa 

voluble  tongue  and  most  bold  splashings  of  water  kept 
the  curious  from  my  chosen  stall. 

In  one  little  street  a  confectioner,  under  whose  arcade 
I  sat,  barricaded  the  whole  of  his  pavement  for  two 
afternoons  to  give  me  light  and  air.  And  very  glad 
was  I  to  have  that  much  breathing  space  in  the  heat, 
and  with  weird  and  awful  undercurrents  of  odour. 
No  one  seemed  to  mind  the  barricade,  or  think  it 
irregular.  At  another  place  a  chemist  put  his  lad  on 
duty  half  an  afternoon  thinning  off  the  swarms  of  school- 
children who  squabbled  for  places  about  me.  Really 
I  have  never  had  such  universal  kindness  and  considera- 
tion in  street  sketching.  The  man  in  the  street  is  my 
very  good  friend. 

We  had  one  long  day  excursion  into  the  Val  di  Ropa 
at  full  vintage  time.  It  was  a  glorious  day,  the  atmo- 
sphere perfect.  The  valley  was  quite  pink  in  its  distant 
levels,  framed  by  bluest  hills.  There  the  vintage  is 
mostly  of  peasant  proprietors  ;  the  groups  are  of  only 
a  few  figures  together ;  too  scattered  to  be  much  of  a 
spectacle ;  and  the  trains  of  horses  and  donkeys  taking 
the  grapes  to  the  homesteads  were  regrettably  dull, 
the  panniers  all  carefully  covered  with  cloth,  and  the 
men  in  ordinary  European  clothes. 

But  the  landscape  was  a  dream  ;  where  the  valley 
escaped  cultivation  the  kruso  (incense-plant)  stood  in 
the  thick  of  its  golden  flowering  ;  in  spite  of  the  heat  the 
air  was  fresh,  and  the  atmosphere — imported  direct 
from  fairyland,  I  suppose.     It  was  a  dreadfully  long 

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An  Artist  in  Corfu 


voyage   though,    and   the   roads   very   choppy.     The 
Babazo  car  rolled  horribly. 

In  the  intervals  of  vintage  work  the  peasants  are  all 
very  busy  with  their  new  crops.  The  usual  vegetables 
— sugar  beet,  leeks,  onions,  turnips,  potatoes,  marrows, 
etc.,  etc.  Along  the  road  trot  mountains  of  green  tops 
from  sweet  potatoes,  entirely  covering  the  little  don- 
keys, and  trailing  to  the  ground ;  and  maize  is  being 
garnered  and  ground,  leaving  a  most  desolate  stubble. 
Presently  the  empty  woods  of  summer  are  repeopled 
with  peasant  groups ;  their  sheep  and  goats  returned 
from  the  summer  flocking,  and  fat  and  happy  in  the 
rich  new  pasturage.  The  peasants  themselves  are  busy 
scratching  up  little  bunds  of  dry  leaves  and  loose  earth, 
around  the  limits  of  each  olive-tree,  preparing,  before 
the  heavy  rains  arrive,  for  the  falling  of  the  fruit. 

These  tiny  earthwork  trimmings  appear  all  over  the 
woods  like  the  handiwork  of  brownies.  One  finds  queer 
little  perversions  and  rearrangements  of  familiar  path- 
ways, and  notices  roadside  gutters  iniquitously  ridged 
and  stopped  too,  under  some  overhanging  tree,  that 
the  dropping  olives  may  not  be  storm-swept  into 
alien  property. 

Peasants  build  anew  their  dry-stone  walls,  and  others 
walk  over  them.  In  October  the  fig-leaves  and  vine 
twigs  are  garnered  as  fodder  for  the  accommodating 
donkeys.  The  women  tending  their  animals  in  the 
woods  twirl  as  they  go  a  spindle  of  wool  or  flax.  They 
climb  high,  with  strong  bare  feet,  to  slender  branches 

136 


The   Rains 

for  the  fruit  crops,  and  stoop  as  freely,  unhampered 
by  the  beautiful  full  skirts,  to  the  many  little  wild 
green  things  of  the  vineyards,  which  they  value  as 
vegetables. 

In  October  the  gingelly-trees  are  stripped  of  their 
pretty  strings  of  yellow,  red,  and  mahogany-varnished 
fruit,  and  their  dainty  green  foliage  is  soon  as  golden  as  a 
birch-tree's.  The  remaining  fig-leaves  sit  like  pale 
butterflies  of  gold  among  the  labyrinthine  elephant- 
grey  branches.  The  waste  places  are  rich  with  massive 
heaths  of  rose  and  crimson,  and  with  the  pendulous 
globes  and  clusters  of  the  strawberry  shrub.  Only 
the  spent  vineyards  fail  from  Corfu's  usual  superlative 
beauty.  The  land  is  not  tesselated  with  their  golden 
patches,  as  one  rather  demands  it  should  be.  They  die 
shabbily,  in  dull  russets  and  rust. 

We  regretfully  abandoned  our  olive-tree  bowers  at 
the  beginning  of  October ;  for  such  heavy  rain  had 
fallen  that  their  foot  or  two  of  twig  mattress  would 
never  dry  again.  In  November  we  put  away  thinnest 
summer  clothing  and  welcomed  a  tiny  wood-fire  in 
the  evenings,  though  more  for  cheering  than  forwarmth. 
By  then  had  vanished  for  the  winter  one  of  the  lesser 
joys  of  Corfu, — the  warm  dry  earth  on  which  one 
could  anywhere  drop  and  sketch;  and  one  had  to 
be  resigned  to  fierce  wet  gales,  or  periods  of  blankety 
cloud  and  purple  gloom,  between  the  sunny  and  most 
welcome  intervals  of  fine  weather. 

Indeed  the  sun  counts  for  very  much  in  southern 

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An  Artist  in  Corfu 


climes,  and  in  Corfu  especially  wintry  weather  is  un- 
provided with  comforts.  Corfu  is  a  queer  little  back- 
water altogether,  and  presents  little  bits  of  life,  little 
corners  of  faith  and  superstition  which  one  had  too 
easily  believed  obsolete. 

Not  only  are  the  peasants  mediaevally  minded,  but 
even  general  society  seems  to  belong  to  former  genera- 
tions. Our  friend  is  surely  very  early  Victorian  who 
is  so  genuinely  terrorised  by  our  most  foolish  and 
amiable  dog,  and  who  has  never  slept  with  her  window 
open  {^e  could  not  sleep  indoors  at  all  in  summer) 
for  fear  that  some  "  bestia  "  presumably  a  moth,  since 
there  are  no  deadly  winged  beasts  there,  might  enter. 

Then  of  what  age  or  century  is  the  Corfiote  fear  of 
a  fire  ?  Here  are  living  people  who  will  not  pay  a  call 
in  any  house  where  may  be  a  fire,  for  they  would 
afterwards  certainly  catch  cold  on  coming  away  from  it. 
So,  many  Corfiote  houses  have  no  chimney  at  all  but 
the  big  hood  over  the  kitchen  fornella,  and  to  our  ideas 
nothing  could  be  more  miserable  than  the  damp  and 
stuffy  cold  of  their  rooms.  Winter  air  is  of  such  chill 
and  penetrating  quality  that  old  and  invalid  people 
must  be  Spartan  or  perish.  We  pay  calls  in  thickest 
coats,  congealing  slowly  from  the  feet  up,  and  find  our 
hosts  dressed  as  for  out  of  doors — sometimes  even  to 
their  gloves  !  Pitifully  passive  resisters — too  little 
demanding  of  life  of  any  kind. 


138 


CHAPTER  VIII 

Winter  :   Mostly  about  Town 

WINTER  is  not  altogether  a  miserable  season 
in  Corfu,  though  its  devoted  inhabitants 
refuse  to  alleviate  it  by  any  comforts,  and 
indeed  rather  deny  that  Corfu  has  anything  so  disagree- 
able. In  truth,  it  does  not  last  long — witness  the 
flowers — and  between  its  raging  days  of  rain  and  biting 
days  of  wind  are  always  periods  of  glorious  sunshine ; 
the  air  a  miracle  of  clearness,  and  tonic  with  the  opposite 
mountains'  snow. 

Then  one  can  tramp  untired  for  miles,  and  visit  all 
the  fascinating  little  hill  villages  that  seemed  so  much 
too  far  in  warmer  weather.  Out  of  the  keen  wind 
and  in  the  sunshine,  one  can  paint  all  day  and  be  sun- 
burnt at  it. 

When  a  donkey  and  boy  were  procurable  I  went  off 
in  state  and  luxury  and  many  coats ;  for  the  donkey 
is  a  pleasant  way  of  going,  not  too  quick,  and  picking 
its  own  way  so  entirely  that  one  is  free  to  watch  every- 
thing instead  of  only  one's  feet.  Nothing  will  prevent 
it  trotting  on  the  way  home  though,  and  for  an  amateur 
a  pack-saddle  is  rather  an  unhappy  eminence  then. 
And  I  will  not  climb  loose  stone  walls  on  donkey  back ; 
I  was  not  brought  up  to  it. 

As  it  was  a  good  olive  year  donkey-boys  soon  became 

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An  Artist  in  Corfu 


haughty  and  exorbitant,  and  without  a  peasant  the 
donkey  of  course  was  unmanageable — a  creature  of 
hearty  determinations,  that  had  never  known  bridle. 
So  off  I  went  on  foot ;  my  pack  on  my  back,  and  an 
obliging  young  dog  for  escort.  Delightful  goings  on 
crisp  dewy  mornings,  and  more  delightful  returns, 
late,  cold,  hurrying,  with  the  panorama  of  the  Straits 
and  their  mountains  rose-red  with  sunset  before  me. 

Except  for  the  few  show  places  and  stereotyped  drives, 
where  of  course  the  inhabitants  are  no  better  than  in 
other  tourist  resorts,  one  can  go  alone  anywhere.  In 
those  little  out-bye  villages  I  met  with  nothing  but 
kindness  and  courtesy,  and  in  later  wanderings  among 
suburbs  and  nearer  villages  of  the  town  I  was  just  as 
politely  welcomed. 

In  one  of  those  distant  villages,  I  had  in  mind  an 
outside  staircase  for  viewpoint.  But  when  I  went  there 
for  sketching  the  whole  establishment  was  away  in 
the  fields,  except  a  dog  tied  in  the  court,  and  furiously 
resenting  strangers.  His  chain  was  so  short  that  I 
passed  him  safely,  and  established  my  self  and  dog  on 
the  little  "  landing  "  upstairs.  I  found  the  view  as 
I  had  anticipated,  and  had  been  an  hour  at  work  before 
an  old  couple  appeared.  The  position  might  have  been 
awkward — a  stranger  in  possession,  a  stranger's  dog 
positively  forbidding  them  their  own  stairs  !  Of 
course  my  few  words  of  Greek  were  quite  inadequate 
for  either  apologies  or  explanations.  However,  the 
old  people  were  perfectly  sweet  and  charming.     They 

140 


Expeditions 


seemed  quite  to  enjoy  my  invasion,  and  were  hospitable 
to  their  poor  limits.  They  brought  me  out  their  best 
pillows  and  a  form  to  sit  on.  They  insisted  on  giving 
me  oranges  each  day ;  and  oh,  pathetic  !  in  return  for 
a  little  parting  gift,  they  would  have  pressed  on  me  a 
portion  of  their  small  store  of  potatoes  :  no  doubt  a 
gift  of  much  greater  value  than  fruit  in  their  eyes. 
Canella,  the  lean  brown  dog,  loved  us  dearly  too,  poor 
starveling,  for  Kouski  and  I  brought  him  each  day  a 
special  chunk  of  bread,  and  we  became  quite  friendly. 
That  was  a  most  peaceful  pitch,  for  not  a  single  boy 
dared  brave  Canella,  though  several  were  impelled  to 
try.  Their  swarms  hung  about  the  gate,  and  yelled 
from  the  broken  walls,  but  within  was  peace.  Of 
course  boys  will  be  annoying  in  any  land,  but  so  long 
as  a  grown-up  was  at  hand  I  was  never  bothered  by 
them  in  Corfu. 

Another  old  acquaintance  I  made  was  at  Potamo, 
three  miles  out  of  town.  A  village  set  among  famous 
orange  groves,  and  a  very  beautiful  spot  indeed.  I  was 
straying  about  as  usual  in  by-ways,  and  went  deep 
among  the  cool  green  orchards,  lamp-lit  with  their 
golden  fruit.  The  ancient  owner  found  me,  but,  like 
the  couple  at  Kalafationes,  took  my  intrusion  most 
affably,  with  neither  surprise  nor  resentment.  He 
sped  me  each  day  with  clusters  of  oranges,  and  cordially 
invited  me  to  go  on  a  festa  day,  when  he  would  have 
time  to  take  me  to  a  favourite  viewpoint  of  his  on  the 
hill  behind.    I  am  still  sorry  that  that  day  never  came. 

141 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


I  spent  some  weeks  of  the  new  year  sketching  in  and 
about  town,  never  quite  mastering  the  intricate  warren 
inside  the  walls.  Like  all  old  walled  towns,  Corfu  was 
packed  and  squeezed  to  its  utmost  capacity  before 
modern  security  allowed  expansion  outside.  The 
houses  stand  four  or  five  stories  high,  with  merest 
twisted  passage-ways  between.  One  day  a  friend  and 
I  each  spent  half  an  hour  looking  for  the  Venetian  well  ;* 
without  finding  either  it  or  each  other,  though  we  both 
knew  where  it  ought  to  be,  and  had  been  there  before. 

The  mark  of  Venice's  four  hundred  years  is  strong 
on  the  town.  All  the  old  part  is  flavorous  of  Italy ; 
its  arcaded  streets  and  cavernous  cook-shops,  its 
decayed  mansions  over  squalid  courts,  even  the 
popular  cookery,  is  as  much  of  Italy  as  of  Greece,  and 
the  Greek  vernacular  is  thick  with  Italian  fragments. 
All  the  old  town  is  picturesque,  and  I  think  only  the 
Hebraica  is  too  poisonous  for  an  artist ;  for  it  is  well 
kept,  for  a  southern  place.  It  is  a  pity  the  Jew  quarter 
is  so  bad,  because  there  one  sees  the  men  embroidering 
all  the  brilliant  festa  clothes  of  peasant  women,  and  the 
colour  in  the  dark  open-fronted  shops  is  very  rich  and 
interesting. 

The  old  Ghetto  was  demolished  in  1535,  but  the 
Hebraica  is  still  distinctly  the  Jewish  quarter,  and  the 
old  prejudice  against  the  Hebrews  still  lingers.  They 
are  cleverer  workmen  and  more  industrious  than  the 
Corfiotes,  so  it  is  likely  to  continue. 

*  La  Cremosti,  a  handsome  relic  of  the  17th  century. 
142 


X 

o 
o 

UJ 
> 

< 
N 
N 
UJ 
h 

o: 
o 


The  Venetian   Forts 


Numerous  campanile  rise  from  the  town,  but  none 
are  specially  distinguished ;  and  the  interiors  of  the 
churches  likewise  are  often  disappointing ;  box-like, 
empty  spaces,  of  plastered  walls  and  no  architectural 
features.  Sometimes  the  screen  is  well  wrought  and 
in  pleasing  proportions,  and  the  conventional  figures 
of  its  panels — each  in  the  special  place  designed  for  it 
in  the  rubrics — make  a  good  pattern  of  gold  and  dark 
varnished  colours.  Of  course  such  famous  shrines  as 
S.  Spiridione,  S.  Teodora  (the  cathedral),  and  Paleo- 
kastrizza  have  beautiful  ancient  church  plate,  and  their 
hanging  lamps  of  silver  are  magnificent.  Such  churches 
have  usually  some  ancient  pictures  on  their  walls ;  the 
frames  at  any  rate  handsome  enough  to  be  worth  seeing, 
and  the  paintings  interesting  archaically. 

The  really  notable  features  of  Corfu  are  the  fine  old 
Venetian  forts.  The  square  block  of  the  Fortezza 
Nuova  (c.  1580)  stands  just  over  the  fishing  port,  a 
capable  and  efficient  looking  defence.  But  it  is  the 
great  double-headed  rock  of  the  Fortezza  Vecchia, — 
jutting  its  bold  crests  far  beyond  the  town  into  the 
Straits — that  is  the  unforgettable  feature  of  the  place, 
and  that  has  fitly  given  its  name  *  to  the  island.  No 
doubt  this  rocky  promontory  has  been  fortified  from 
earliest  times.  Its  position — both  locally  to  the  island 
and  racially  to  the  factions  of  east  and  west — insists 
on  that.  But  the  existing  fortifications  are  chiefly 
from  Venetian  times.     Corfu  was  the  principal  arsenal 

*  The  Byzantine  name  Kopvifub.     Kopvtfxu,  two  peaks. 

H3 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


of  Venice  for  her  Levantine  possessions,  and  it  was  due 
to  her  thorough  strengthening  of  the  natural  defences 
of  the  town  that  Corfu,  alone  of  all  Greece,  resisted 
every  attack  of  the  conquering  Turks. 

The  town  is  separated  from  the  outstanding  penin- 
sula of  the  Fortezza  Vecchia  by  the  width  of  the 
esplanade,  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  and  it  was  not 
walled  till  the  rising  tide  of  Turkish  conquest 
threatened  to  engulf  it  at  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth 
century. 

The  Turks  had  made  an  unsuccessful  attack  on  Corfu 
in  143 1,  and  did  not  come  again  until  the  terrible  siege 
of  1535,  when  they  laid  waste  the  island  for  thirteen 
days. 

Here  is  Mr.  Miller's  graphic  account  of  their  in- 
vasion.* 

"...  For  a  whole  generation  the  Ionian  islands 
enjoyed,  like  the  other  Venetian  colonies,  the  long 
peace. 

"  At  last,  however,  after  rather  more  than  a  century 
of  almost  complete  freedom  from  attack,  Corfu  was 
destined  to  undergo  the  first  of  the  two  great  Turkish 
sieges,  which  were  the  principal  events  in  her  annals 
during  the  Venetian  occupation.  In  1537  war  broke 
out  between  the  republic  and  Suleyman  the  Magnifi- 
cent, at  that  time  engaged  in  an  attack  upon  the  Nea- 
politan dominions  of  Charles  V.  During  the  transport 
of  troops  and  material  of  war  across  the  channel  of 

*  From  "  The  Latins  in  the  Levant,"  William  Miller,  page  559. 

144 


The  Turkish  Invasion 

Otranto,  the  Turkish  and  Venetian  fleets  came  into 
hostile  collision,  and  though  Venice  was  ready  to  make 
amends  for  the  mistakes  of  her  officials,  the  sultan 
resolved  to  punish  them  for  the  insults  to  his  flag.  He 
was  at  Valona,  on  the  coast  of  Epiros,  at  the  time  ;  and, 
removing  his  camp  to  Butrinto,  whose  commander 
surrendered  at  his  approach,  he  gave  orders  for  the 
invasion  of  Corfu. 

"  The  island  was  not  taken  unawares.  The  presence 
of  the  Sultan  in  Epiros,  and  the  naval  operations  of 
Andrew  Doria  to  the  north  and  south  of  Corfu,  had  put 
the  authorities  on  their  guard,  and  Admiral  Girolamo 
Pesaro  with  a  large  fleet,  which  was  joined  by  a  con- 
tingent of  five  Ionian  galleys,  had  been  despatched  to 
Corfiote  waters.  The  town  still  relied  for  its  pro- 
tection on  the  two  fortified  peaks  of  what  is  now  called 
the  Fortezza  Vecchia,  defended  by  a  garrison  of  some 
2000  Italians  and  the  same  number  of  Corfiotes,  and 
under  the  command  of  Naldo,  an  officer  who  had 
distinguished  himself  in  the  Italian  wars,  while  four 
galleys,  with  their  crews  on  board,  lay  behind  the  break- 
water below  the  fortress.  The  place  was  well  supplied 
with  guns  and  ammunition ;  it  contained  provisions 
for  three  years,  and  its  defences  were  strengthened  by 
the  destruction  of  3000  trees  in  the  suburbs,  which 
might  have  served  as  cover  for  the  enemy. 

"  The  Turks,  under  the  command  of  the  redoubtable 
Khaireddin  Barbarossa,  the  most  celebrated  captain 
in  the  service  of  the  Sultan,  landed  at  Govino,  where 

145  L 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


the  much  later  Venetian  arsenal  now  stands,  towards 
the  end  of  August,  destroyed  the  village  of  Potamo, 
and  marched  upon  the  capital.  On  the  29th  another 
force  of  25,000  men  crossed  over  to  join  him,  these 
operations  being  facilitated  by  the  fact  that  Pesaro 
had  sailed  up  the  Adriatic  without  engaging  the  Turkish 
fleet.  The  mart,  as  it  was  called,  which  lay  outside 
the  city  walls,  was  speedily  taken,  and  its  remaining 
inhabitants  found  the  gates  shut  against  them  and  were 
forced  to  crouch  under  the  castle  ramparts  on  the  rocky 
promontory  of  S.  Sidero  or  behind  the  breakwater. 
The  Corfiote  traveller  Noukios,  an  eye-witness  of  the 
siege,  has  left  a  graphic  account  of  the  sufferings  of 
these  poor  wretches,  huddled  together  on  a  narrow 
ledge  of  rock,  withour  food  or  shelter,  and  exposed  to 
the  stones  of  the  garrison,  and  to  the  fuU  force  of  one 
of  those  terrific  storms  of  rain  not  uncommon*  in  Corfu 
at  that  season.  Those  who  could  afford  to  bribe  the 
soldiers  on  the  walls  were  pulled  up  by  means  of  ropes, 
while  the  rest  were  left  to  die  of  cold  or  hunger.  When 
it  seemed  that  the  siege  was  Hkely  to  last,  the  Venetian 
governor,  in  order  to  economise  food  and  space,  turned 
out  of  the  fortress  the  old  men,  women,  and  children, 
who  went  to  the  Turkish  lines  to  beg  for  bread.  The 
Turkish  commander,  hoping  to  work  on  the  feelings 
of  the  garrison,  refused ;  so  the  miserable  creatures, 
repudiated  alike  by  the  besieged  and  the  besiegers, 
wandered  about  distractedly  between  the  two  armies, 


•  Corfiotes  deny  the  frequency  ! 
146 


The  Turkish  Invasion 

striving  to  regain  admission  to  the  fortress  by  showing 
their  ancient  wounds  gained  in  the  Venetian  service ; 
and,  at  last,  when  their  efforts  proved  unavaiHng, 
lying  down  in  the  ditches  to  die.  Meanwhile,  for 
three  days  and  nights  the  suburbs  were  blazing,  and 
the  Turks  were  ravaging  the  fair  island  with  fire  and 
sword.  The  castle  of  Sant'  Angelo  on  the  west  coast 
alone  resisted  their  attacks.  More  than  3000  refugees 
from  the  countryside  had  congregated  within  its  walls 
and  four  times  did  its  brave  Corfiote  garrison  repulse 
the  enemy.  Barbarossa,  whose  headquarters  were  at 
the  Avrime  Palace  on  the  sea-shore,  now  began  the 
bombardment  of  the  fortified  peninsula,  which  con- 
tained the  mediaeval  city  of  Corfu.  He  planted  a  cannon 
on  the  islet  of  Vido,  then  called  Malipiero,  the  plesaunce 
of  a  nobleman,  and  noted  for  its  abundance  of  game. 
But  the  gunners  made  such  bad  practise  that  in  three 
days  they  only  hit  the  mark  five  times,  while  the  rest 
of  their  shots  flew  over  the  fortress  into  the  sea  on  the 
other  side.  Nor  was  Barbarossa  more  fortunate  in 
an  attempt  to  bombard  the  city  from  his  own  galley ; 
a  well-aimed  shot  struck  the  vessel,  and,  when  he  retired 
in  the  direction  of  the  fountain  of  Kardaki,  where  ships 
were  accustomed  to  water,  and  began  a  cannonade  of 
the  place  from  that  side  where  the  walls  were  lower, 
the  great  distance  caused  most  of  his  projectiles  to  fall 
short  of  the  mark.  At  this,  Ayas  Pasha,  the  grand 
vizier,  resolved  to  see  for  himself  the  prospects  of 
taking  the  city ;    he  therefore  ventured  out  one  dark 

147  L2 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


and  rainy  night  to  inspect  the  moat  and  the  walls. 
What  he  saw  convinced  him  that  Corfu  could  only 
be  captured  after  a  long  siege,  whereas  the  month  of 
September  had  now  begun  and  sickness  had  broken  out 
among  the  half-starved  Turks.  He  therefore  advised 
the  Sultan  to  abandon  the  attempt.  Suleyman  first 
resolved  to  try  the  effect  of  persuasion  upon  the  garri- 
son ;  he  therefore  sent  a  Corfiote  prisoner  to  frighten 
the  Venetian  authorities  into  surrender.  The  bailie, 
Simeone  Leone,  and  the  provveditore,  Luigi  da  Riva, 
dismissed  the  Sultan's  envoy  without  a  reply,  and  a  brisk 
cannonade  from  the  castle  batteries  proved  an  effective 
answer  to  fresh  demonstrations  of  hostility.  Suleyman 
therefore  made  a  virtue  of  necessity  ;  the  grand  vizier 
sent  for  the  Venetian  representative  at  Constantinople, 
who  was  at  the  Sultan's  headquarters,  and  offered  to 
raise  the  siege,  if  the  republic  would  compensate  his 
master  for  his  losses  ;  but  before  any  reply  could  arrive 
from  Venice,  the  siege  had  been  already  raised.  After 
firing  all  the  houses  that  remained  standing  in  the 
suburbs,  the  Turks  were  ordered  to  embark ;  their 
fleet  made  one  more  demonstration,  but  on  the  nth 
September,  after  a  stay  of  only  thirteen  days  in  the 
island,  they  recrossed  the  channel  to  Epiros.  But  in 
that  short  time  they  had  wrought  enormous  damage. 
The  Corfiote  traveller  tells  us  that  they  had  destroyed 
"  all  the  works  of  men's  hands  "  throughout  the  island, 
and  that  they  slew  or  carried  off  all  the  animals  they 
could   find ;    sparing  only  the  trees  and  vines,  owing 

148 


The  Siege   of  a.d.    1716 

to  the  suddenness  of  their  departure.  The  Duke  of 
Naxos  wrote  to  the  Pope,  that  two  large  cities  might 
have  been  built  out  of  the  houses  and  churches  which 
they  had  destroyed  ;  the  privileges  and  letters-patent 
of  the  islanders  had  perished  in  the  flames  or  had  been 
used  as  ammunition,  and  a  Corfiote  petition  states  that 
they  carried  away  more  than  20,000  captives.  The 
population  was  so  greatly  reduced  by  this  wholesale 
deportation,  that  the  nobles  had  to  be  recruited  from 
the  burgesses,  and  nearly  forty  years  afterwards  the 
whole  island  contained  only  some  17,500  inhabitants, 
or  less  than  one  fifth  of  the  estimated  population  in 
classical  times.  ..." 

There  was  another  great  Turkish  siege  in  17 16, 
notable  as  the  Turks'  last  great  effort  at  conquest  in 
Christendom  ;  when  the  brave  and  skilful  soldier  of  for- 
tune, Marschall  Schulemberg,  whose  statue  still  adorns 
the  esplanade,  fought  the  whole  mihtaryand  naval  power 
of  the  Ottoman  empire  for  six  weeks.  The  Turks 
arrived  with  sixty  ships  of  war  and  numerous  smaller 
vessels  on  July  5  th,  and  the  General-in-chief  had 
30,000  picked  troops  landed  from  the  fleet  at  Govino 
(which  was  used  by  the  Venetians  as  a  light  draught 
harbour).  The  Venetian  fleet  arrived  on  the  8th,  but 
the  Turks  were  forewarned  of  its  approach  by  the  sound 
of  a  salute  to  the  famous  Shrine  of  Our  Lady  of 
Kasoppa,  across  Govino  Bay,  and  the  two  fleets  stood 
at  bay  without  any  decisive  sea-fighting.  The  Turks 
of    course    commanded    the    landing.     The    General 

149 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


established  himself  at  Potamo  and  ravaged  the  country- 
far  and  wide — the  terrified  peasantry  fleeing  into  the 
town.  The  Turks  soon  possessed  the  suburbs,  and  there 
was  much  desperate  fighting  and  great  loss  on  both 
sides.  It  is  said  that  even  priests  and  women  helped 
to  defend  the  town  walls.  Before  dawn  on  the  19th  a 
grand  assault  left  the  Turks  in  possession  of  an  outwork 
of  the  Fortezza  Nuova,  but  Schulemberg  in  person 
headed  a  desperate  sortie,  and  drove  them  back  with 
immense  loss.  By  the  22nd  the  Turks  had  retreated, 
abandoning  stores,  ammunition  and  artillery,  and  it  is 
said  losing  half  their  army  in  action  and  by  disease, 
while  the  Venetians  lost  2000  of  their  garrison  of  5000. 

Some  parts  of  Fortezza  Veechia  date  from  this 
period ;  what  is  now  called  the  Fortezza  Nuova  was 
built  between  1577  and  1588,  when  the  new  defences 
were  completed. 

The  forts  were  all  dismantled  at  the  English  with- 
drawal from  Corfu  in  1864;  there  is  grass  on  their 
causeways  now ;  the  English  barrack  is  a  hospital 
much  too  large  for  its  population ;  and  no  guns  but 
salutes  of  honour  wake  the  echoes  of  the  bay  that  has 
heard  so  many. 

Little  clusters  of  khaki  conscripts  come  to  drill  and 
run  about  on  the  esplanade  in  the  mornings,  and  there 
are  occasional  cricket  matches  when  a  British  man-of- 
war  puts  in  ;  but  the  whole  place  is  asleep  :  the  peaceful 
chimney-corner  sleep  of  the  very  old. 

All  the  society  of  Corfu  is  within  the  town,  hardly 

150 


Corfiote  Society 


spreading  even  to  the  suburbs,  but  all  the  society  is 
very  little,  and  one  must  not  expect  the  finest  quality 
of  brain  either  to  come  or  to  stay  within  the  Hmitations 
of  a  backwater. 

In  theory  Corfiotes  admire  their  island  immensely, 
and  in  practice  many  of  them  cannot  be  happy  away 
from  it.  But  the  most  enthusiastic  will  not  live  outside 
the  town  ;  only  necessity  or  the  very  hottest  weather 
will  drive  them  to  stay  in  the  country.  The  few 
eccentrics  who  do  live  on  their  estates  are  conse- 
sequently  much  isolated,  and  the  average  Corfiote 
has  rarely  much  real  knowledge  of  the  island.  Often 
they  have  not  travelled  beyond  the  district  of  their 
own  estates,  and  as  for  the  wonderful  riches  of  the 
flowers — well,  flowers  are  mostly  "  wild,"  and  therefore 
unregarded. 

One  day  I  asked  a  girl — educated  in  England,  too — 
the  name  of  the  stately  hot-weather  lily  (eremurus) 
which  was  growing  thickly  just  outside  her  gates.  She 
pondered  awhile  and  then  said,  "  It  is  a  daffodil,"  and 
she  was  not  wider  of  the  mark  than  most  of  whom  one 
asks  information  !  A  lady  who  wishes  to  impress  you 
as  very  advanced  and  so  on,  will  tell  you  she  likes  wild 
flowers — just  as  she  will  feel  superior  because  she  sleeps 
with  an  open  window.  We  are  only  a  generation  ahead. 
Still,  it  seems  strange. 

It  is  all  very  well  to  have  theories  about  drains ; 
but  southerners  do  manage  to  live  where,  by  the  theories 
of  northern  sanitarians,  they  should  speedily  die.    True, 

151 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


they  do  not  look  extremely  well,  but  the  climate  has 
something  to  say  to  that,  and  they  have  diseases, 
but  so  have  we,  in  spite  of  sanitary  theories.  And  many 
of  them  live  to  a  great  age. 

Two  dear  old  friends  of  mine  lived  over  a  mews — 
entered  from  it,  too.  Yes,  it  was  dreadful — but  they 
lived.  Another,  this  in  the  front  street,  too,  said  she 
could  not  open  her  windows  in  summer  as  the  air  was 
too  bad,  and  she  had  moved  to  this  house  because  her 
son  had  nearly  died  of  typhoid  in  the  last. 

However,  Corfu  is  sweet  and  well  kept  compared 
to  many  southern  towns,  and  the  hotels  are  quite  modern 
and  do  not  suffer  from  the  defects  of  the  old  town. 

In  the  winter  some  little  Italian  opera  company 
comes  for  a  season,  with  an  ancient  and  limited  reper- 
toire, and  every  one  has  a  box  at  the  nice  little  theatre, 
chiefly  for  social  purposes.  It  is  an  unending  wonder 
to  me  how  little  the  Corfiotes  demand  of  life.  Why 
not  newer  music  ?  why  not  a  cool  mountain  hotel  in 
stifling  summer  ?  why  not  fireplaces  in  winter  ?  better 
drainage  ?  They  have  no  capital  in  the  island,  and  all 
the  fertility  of  it  seems  useless  against  the  want  of 
initiative  in  the  educated,  and  the  primitiveness  of 
the  peasant.  Indeed  Corfu  keeps  its  luxuriance  in 
spite  of  its  inhabitants,  rather  than  because  of  them. 

Though  Venice  was  wise  enough  to  encourage  agri- 
culture, she  would  not  forego  authority  in  her  posses- 
sions, and  to  keep  under  the  native  nobility  she  forbade 
them  all  trade,  made  education  a  farce,  and  obliged  them 

152 


The  Corfiote  Ladies 


to  live  in  town  if  they  would  claim  the  small  share  of 
government  and  power  allowed  them.  So  that  in 
the  end  agriculture  was  not  helped  but  ruined,  for  the 
gentry  forgot  how  to  live  on  their  estates,  and  the  land 
was  and  is  left  to  the  traditional  and  undeveloped 
methods  of  the  peasant.  The  undeveloped  mind  is 
amazing,  through  a  long  period  of  acquaintance.  There 
is  such  a  hopeless  wrongness  and  lack  of  reason 
in  its  workings,  such  a  capacity  for  damage  and 
blundering  in  any  work  not  straitly  ruled  by  custom, 
that  one  continues  wondering  how  anything  beautiful 
or  useful  is  left  on  the  island.  For  example,  Lenne 
will  tether  the  donkey  within  cord's  length  of  a  young 
and  treasured  pergola  of  vines,  within  two  days  of  a 
severe  scolding  for  having  left  him  on  the  margin  of  a 
vineyard.  Sheep  will  be  left  to  browse  on  the  struggling 
seedlings  in  the  garden,  or  their  cords  to  chafe  a  grove 
of  baby  cypresses,  or  the  tender  shoots  of  young  fig- 
trees.  Corfu  must  sometimes  have  hard  work  against 
its  inhabitants ! 

The  days  of  the  Corfiote  ladies  are  a  little  mystery 
which  I  have  not  penetrated.  They  live  in  flats,  so 
there  is  not  much  housework.  I  have  rarely  seen  a 
book  in  any  room  ;  perhaps  their  very  fine  needlework 
and  very  excellent  conserves  occupy  them.  In  the  late 
afternoon  or  evening  they  dress  with  great  care  and 
elaboration  : — Corsetted  amazingly,  gowned  if  possible 
from  Paris,  their  splendid  hair  perfectly  dressed,  and 
with  most  impressive  hats,  they  take  the  air  on  the 

153 


An  Artist  In  Corfu 


esplanade,  see  their  friends,  and  sit  late  in  the  cafes  in 
the  hot  weather.  Even  in  summer  they  do  not  relax 
the  rigours  of  their  toilette.  They  usually  speak 
several  languages  well,  but  the  whole  island  is  strikingly 
devoid  of  books.  A  few  ultra-energetic  spirits  visit 
and  help  the  hospital  and  prison,  but  that  is  considered 
rather  remarkable.  Family  affairs  seem  the  sole 
interest  of  the  women,  as  politics  are  of  the  men.  One 
is  drearily  oppressed  by  such  indifference  and  feels  that 
the  most  extravagant  flannelled-fooling  is  better  and 
more  hopeful.  The  place  is  too  old  perhaps  and  its 
very  desires  are  dying. 

There  are  six  or  seven  members  of  Parliament  for 
Corfu,  and  to  minimise  corruption  they  must  each 
solicit  the  suffrage  of  the  whole  island,  instead  of 
standing  for  different  districts.  I  believe  they  tour 
the  island  in  a  gang ;  at  any  rate,  the  less  accessible 
parts.  It  seems  a  cumbersome  and  exhausting  arrange- 
ment, and  I  have  not  heard  that  corruption  is  yet 
extinct.  Manhood  suffrage  came  very  early  to  the 
uneducated  peasants  of  new  Greece,  many  of  whom 
cannot  read  and  write  at  the  present  day,  and  whose 
minds  are  still  extraordinarily  undeveloped.  To  these 
a  vote  is,  naturally,  regarded  as  something  personally 
useful,  even  to  be  openly  auctioned  for  personal  gain, 
or  at  best,  to  be  used  for  some  entirely  local  advantage. 
That  their  M.P.  should  procure  them  a  road,  or  con- 
trive that  sentence  passed  should  not  be  executed  on 
their  cousin  the  murderer,  is  the  nearest  approach  one 

154 


Greek  Apathy 


can  expect  to  patriotism.  Local  counsellors  may  be 
profitably  elected  on  such  terms.  But  they  are  dis- 
astrous for  a  nation  :  its  leaders  too  dependent  on 
satisfying  the  local  needs  of  their  constituents  to  achieve 
a  national  policy. 

It  seems  to  belong  to  the  national  temperament 
that  the  party  system  tends  to  become  rather  a  strife 
of  personalities  than  of  principles.  And  as  every 
little  olhce-boy,  yea,  even  a  half-finished  contract,  is 
changed  with  change  of  ministry,  small  office  holding 
with  its  degrading  influences  wastes  the  resources  of 
the  country.  The  intense  patriotism  and  philanthropy 
of  many  over-seas  Greeks,  which  are  dowering  Greece 
so  richly  with  schools  and  public  institutions,  seem  of 
small  avail  against  the  general  and  immemorial  in- 
abihty  to  amalgamate  in  a  truly  national  spirit.  Famous 
business  men  abroad,  at  home  they  cannot  even  run 
a  postal  system.  Even  between  Athens  and  Corfu — 
the  main  route  to  commercial  Europe — letters  are 
constantly  lost,  or  take  any  time  from  five  days  to  a 
fortnight  to  do  a  journey  of  less  than  twenty-four  hours. 

This  being  the  general  condition  it  is  not  surprising 
to  find  woman  is  by  law  still  very  much  a  vassal. 

If  a  woman  leave  her  husband,  even  for  his  open  and 
insulting  unfaithfulness,  she  is  still  in  his  power.  He 
may  live  as  he  likes,  and  go  where  he  pleases,  but  she, 
a  virtuous  woman,  may  never  appear  in  any  public 
place  of  entertainment,  may  not  attend  a  concert,  nor 
leave  her  house  for  a  single  night — even  to  attend  on 

155 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


illness  or  for  any  other  serious  reason — without  the  man's 
permission.  //  she  did,  he  could  divorce  her ;  and 
though  she  may  long  to  be  free,  the  divorce  will  make 
their  children  illegitimate  if  they  have  not  attained 
their  majority.  Add  to  this,  that  no  contract  though 
written  and  sealed  is  binding  between  husband  and 
wife,  and  the  woman's  subjection  and  insecurity  is 
complete.  The  man  might  give  her  permission — to 
take  a  child  abroad  to  school,  for  example — repudiate 
the  agreement,  and  bastardise  the  child. 

Needless  to  say  it  is  only  of  very  recent  years  that 
women  have  been  bold  enough  to  walk  unattended  in 
this  mildest  little  town,  where  every  one  is  a  friend  or 
relation.  They  accept  Englishwomen's  free  ways,  of 
course,  but  always  with  a  wondering  "  are  you  not 
afraid  ?  " 


156 


CHAPTER  IX 

On   Festas 

ON  the  vigil  of  a  great  winter  festa  the  little 
town  of  Corfu  is  as  lively  as  an  ant  heap ; 
peasants  and  townspeople  alike  busy  pro- 
viding for  the  coming  holidays.  The  narrow  streets 
are  half  blocked  with  stacks  of  fruit  and  vegetables, 
and  overflowing  stalls  of  all  manner  of  provisions. 

There  are  pyramids  of  endive,  cauliflowers,  and 
broccoli  in  all  its  charming  and  original  shades  of  mauve, 
yellow  and  purple  ;  enormous  faggots  of  leeks  and  of 
all  the  good  wild  green  things ;  masses  of  oranges  and 
lemons  glowing  from  their  fresh  shining  leaves ;  stalls 
of  dried  fruits  and  nuts,  and  of  cheeses  dry  and  fresh ; 
the  sheep  cheese,  extracted  from  its  unattractive 
preservative  of  slimy  clay,  still  milk-white  and  excellent. 

Sweet  potatoes  and  chestnuts  all  hot ;  fried  fish  of 
many  sizes  and  degrees,  from  lordly  tunny  to  humblest 
miniatures  ;  purple  octopi  and  other  things  unclassable, 
are  all  a-cooking  by  the  wayside. 

The  man  wielding  his  spoon  beside  the  huge  cauldron 
of  fritelli  is  an  artist,  and  we  pause  to  admire  the  master- 
ly grace  with  which  his  forefinger  flicks  each  morsel 
of  curranty  dough  into  its  boiling  bath,  whence  it 
emerges  a  golden  and  most  popular  mouthful. 

Fascinating  to  youthful  eye  and  tooth  are  the  hawker's 

157 


An  Artist  in   Corfu 


baskets  of  ring-cakes,  strung  on  rows  of  upright  sticks 
in  pink  and  white  variety.  A  porridge  of  maize  and 
winkles  is  also  on  the  street  menu,  with  other  delicacies 
whose  foundations  are  among  the  lesser  mysteries. 

Clean  and  attractive  as  the  things  appear,  resident 
Corfiotes  do  not  recommend  them.  Indeed  I  could 
a  dreadful  tale  unfold,  concerning  a  very  celebrated 
brand  of  fritelli. 

I  think  no  shopkeeper  north  of  Greece  could  find 
time  to  dispose  his  eggs  so  pleasingly  among  the 
partitioned  fruits  of  his  shop-cave  and  the  stall  emerging 
therefrom  ;  their  scattered  pattern  of  white  retreats 
up  to  the  dimmest  corners.  He  also  contrives  a  few 
flowers  and  bunches  of  fresh  green  leaves  about  the 
humblest  cheese  and  fish  stalls. 

Amid  the  throng  of  people  and  crates  there  are 
peasants  freeing  themselves  and  their  donkeys  of  their 
bulky  loads  of  glossy  greens,  of  brilliant  fruits,  or  of 
little  round  turnips  washed  as  white  as  the  white 
Greek  eggs.  They  spread  out  their  passive  fowls, — un- 
fortunates which  are  always  transported  in  living 
bunches  by  the  legs  ;  they  tether  their  equally  un- 
remonstrant  turkeys,  which  may  have  run  a  long  day's 
journey  hither,  or  like  the  more  miserable  hens,  have 
travelled,  head  dangling,  on  the  outwork  of  a  trap. 
I  have  even  seen  a  double  row  of  hens  slung  on  the 
handle-bar  of  a  bicycle.  Busy  cooks  and  housewives 
thread  the  crowd,  followed  by  basket  bearers.  Fathers 
of  families  load  themselves  with  armfuls  of  long  bread, 

158 


The  Festa 

or  with  those  lifebelt  shaped  loaves  which  are  so  much 
easier  to  carry  with  a  general  cargo  ;  for  the  great 
festas  of  S.  Spiridione,  Christmas,  and  Epiphany  are 
each  of  two  days'  duration,  so  shopping  for  them  is 
quite  a  bulky  business. 

On  the  festa  days  proper  hardly  even  a  cavern  in 
Fried-Fish  Street  is  open,  and  any  improvident  stranger 
in  the  land  must  apparently  live  exclusively  on  coffee 
and  mandolata.  When  one  has  seen  the  rapidly 
vanishing  heaps  of  the  latter  delicious  sweetmeat — a 
nougat  of  honey,  almonds  and  white  of  egg — one  can 
really  believe  that  its  manufacture  at  festa  time  accounts 
for  a  periodic  scarcity  of  eggs  in  the  island. 

The  indigenous  sweets  of  Greece  are  very  good, 
and  have  also  the  merit  of  genuineness,  being  often 
more  in  the  nature  of  a  sweet  food  than  of  our  lollipops. 
There  is  one  satisfying  compound,  halvas — of  ground 
sesame  seed  and  honey  or  sugar — ^which  is  regularly 
served  to  the  soldiers  as  a  daily  ration  during  the  long 
and  strict  lenten  fast,  and  very  alleviating  it  must  be*. 

No  great  entertainments  mark  the  festas.  The 
streets  are  as  deserted  as  London  on  bank-holidays  ; 
empty  but  for  the  sound  of  church  bells  and  drift  of 
incense.  The  churches  are  all  strewn  with  fresh  leaves 
of  daphne,  and  all  day  long  people  pass  in  to  kiss  the  ikons 
and  relics  about  the  lamp-lit  screens. 

After  Mass  the  town  empties  itself  on  the  esplanade. 


*  The  wedding  cake  of  the  ancients  was  made  of  sesiame  and  honey. 
Strange  that  it  should  survive  as  a  food  for  fasts. 


An   Artist  in   Corfu 


How  little  the  Corfiote  asks  of  life  !  He  will  stroll  and 
chat  through  his  holiday  with  no  more  thrilling  enter- 
tainment than  the  band  of  the  Philharmonica  or  a 
legal  and  open  game  of  pitch  and  toss.  And  on  work 
days  he  does  not  protest  when  all  the  Philharmonica 
(oh,  misnamed  !)  practise  their  parts  separately  in  one 
room  in  the  main  street,  blasting  the  neighbourhood. 

Though  Christmas  is  a  two  days'  feast,  with  as 
solemn  a  sacrifice  of  turkey  as  in  England,  it  is  New  Year 
which  is  the  special  festival  of  children,  when  gifts 
are  given  and  exchanged,  and  booths  are  full  of  the 
simple  toys  and  gaudy  edibles  dear  to  youth. 

In  due  course,  and  always  reckoning  by  the  old- 
style  calendar,  comes  the  Epiphany,  the  first  great 
church  festival  of  the  New  Year.  There  are  still 
observed  two  separate  and  elaborate  services  for  the 
blessing  of  the  waters ;  the  first,  on  the  night  of  the 
vigil,  was  originally  for  the  baptism  of  catechumens, 
while  the  second,  which,  except  in  Corfu,  takes  place 
under  the  open  sky,  is  on  the  morning  of  the  festa 
proper,  and  is  for  the  blessing  of  rivers,  lakes,  pools, 
and  wells. 

For  this  festa  a  bower  of  myrtle  and  other  fresh 
green  boughs  is  erected  in  the  churches,  and  this 
enshrines  a  fount  from  which  the  consecrated  water 
flows  into  basins  to  be  received  by  the  faithful.  A  very 
ancient  crucifix  is  used  in  the  service  of  sanctification 
at  S.  Spiridione,  a  much-kissed  relic  not  six  inches  high. 

During  the  days  ensuing,  the  blessed  water  is  borne 

1 60 


Some   Beautiful  Prayers 

by  the  priests  to  each  house  in  their  parish,  and  each 
room  is  sprinkled,  favourite  plants  even  receiving  a 
special  portion. 

The  prayers  used  at  these  Epiphany  services  are  very 
ancient  and  beautiful,  being  of  St.  John  Chrysostom 
and  St.  Basil.  They  seem  akin  to  the  Psalms  in  their 
godly  fear  and  richness  of  imagery.  The  service,  as 
is  usual  in  the  Orthodox  Church,  is  interspersed  with 
short  litanies. 

The  services  of  the  Greek  Church  are  extraordinarily 
varied,  each  great  festa  having  special  forms  and 
observances,  so  that  an  orthodox  service  book  is  a 
weighty  and  complicated  volume  and  is  used  chiefly 
by  the  priests,  the  congregation  taking  part  only  in 
the  numerous  Htanies  and  prayers  which  are  common 
to  most  of  the  services.  The  scriptures,  epistles  and 
gospels  are  read,  as  with  us.  But  the  Greek  service 
book  has  a  wealth  of  beautiful  ancient  prayers  to  which 
our  church  service  has  no  parallel. 

Here  is  the  prayer  of  sanctification  of  the  waters 
at  the  Epiphany  ("  The  Jordan  Festival  ").* 

"  Great  art  thou,  O  Lord,  and  marvellous  are  thy 
works,  and  speech  sufficeth  not  to  sing  the  praise  of 
thy  wonders.     {Repeated  three  times.) 

"For  thou, by  thy  will,  from  nothingness  hast  brought 

•  From  the  Service  Book  of  the  Holy  Orthodox  Church.  Compiled, 
translated  and  arranged  from  the  Old  Slavonic  Church  Service  Books  of 
the  Russian  Churches  and  collated  with  the  Service  Books  of  the  Greek 
Church  by  Isabel  Florence  Hapgood.  (Houghton,  MefHins  Co.,  The 
Russian  Press,  Cambridge,  U.S.A.,  1906.) 

161  M 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


all  things  into  being  ;  by  thy  majesty  thou  dost  uphold 
all  creation,  and  hy  thy  providence  thou  dost  direct 
the  world.  When  thou  hadst  framed  the  universe  out 
of  four  elements,  thou  didst  crown  the  circle  of  the  year 
with  four  seasons.  All  the  reason-endowed  powers 
tremble  before  thee.  The  sun  singeth  thy  praises,  and 
the  moon  glorifieth  thee  ;  the  stars  also  stand  before 
thy  presence.  The  light  obeyeth  thee.  The  deeps 
shudder  with  awe  before  thee  ;  the  water  springs  do 
thy  bidding.  Thou  hast  spread  out  the  heavens  like 
a  curtain.  Thou  hast  established  the  earth  upon  the 
waters.  With  sand  hast  thou  walled  in  the  sea.  Thou 
hast  shed  abroad  the  air  for  breathing.  The  Angelic 
Powers  serve  thee.  The  Archangelic  Hosts  adore  thee. 
The  many  eyed  Cherubim  and  the  six-winged  Sera- 
phim, as  they  stand  about  and  do  fly,  veil  their 
faces  with  awe  before  thine  unapproachable  glory. 
For  thou,  the  God  which  cannot  be  circumscribed, 
who  art  from  everlasting  and  ineffable,  didst  come 
down  upon  earth  taking  on  the  form  of  a  servant, 
and  being  made  in  the  likeness  of  men. 

"  For  thou  couldst  not  endure,  O  Master,  because  of 
thy  tender-hearted  mercy,  to  behold  the  children  of 
men  tormented  by  the  devil ;  but  thou  didst  come, 
and  didst  save  us.  We  confess  thy  grace  ;  we  proclaim 
thy  mercy  ;  we  conceal  not  thy  gracious  deeds.  Thou 
hast  set  at  liberty  the  generations  of  our  race,  by  thy 
birth  thou  hast  sanctified  a  virgin's  womb.  All  creation 
singeth  praises  unto  thee,  who  dost  reveal  thyself  ;   for 

162 


Some   Beautiful   Prayers 

thou  art  our  God,  who  hast  been  seen  upon  earth,  and 
didst  dwell  among  men.  Thou  didst  hallow,  also,  the 
streams  of  Jordan  in  that  thou  didst  send  down  from 
heaven  thy  Holy  Spirit,  and  didst  crush  the  heads  of 
the  serpents  that  lurked  there.  {7hen  the  priest 
repeateth,  twice,  the  following^  and  blesseth  the  water  with 
his  hand  at  each  repetition.) 

"Wherefore  do  thou,  O  King,  who  loveth  man- 
kind, come  down  now  also  through  the  inspi- 
ration of  thy  Holy  Spirit,  and  sanctify  this  water. 
{Thrice.) 

'*  And  impart  unto  it  the  grace  of  redemption,  the 
blessing  of  Jordan.  (Thrice.)  Make  it  a  fountain 
of  immortality,  a  gift  of  sanctification,  a  remission  of 
sins,  a  healing  of  infirmities,  a  destruction  of  demons ; 
unapproachable  by  hostile  powers,  filled  with  angelic 
might.  And  may  it  be  unto  all  those  who  shall  draw 
it  and  shall  partake  of  it,  unto  the  purification  of  their 
souls  and  bodies,  unto  the  healing  of  their  passions, 
unto  the  sanctification  of  their  houses,  and  unto  every 
expedient  service. 

"  For  thou  art  our  God,  who  through  water  and  the 
Spirit  dost  renew  our  natures,  which  had  fallen  into 
decay  through  sin.  For  thou  art  our  God,  who  with 
water  didst  drown  sin  in  the  days  of  Noah.  For  thou 
art  our  God,  who  by  the  sea,  through  Moses,  didst  set 
free  from  slavery  to  Pharaoh  the  Hebrew  race.  For 
thou  art  our  God,  who  didst  cleave  the  rock  in  the 
wilderness,  so  that  water  gushed  forth,  and  who  madest 

163  M2 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


the  floods  to  well  forth  abundantly ;  and  didst  satisfy 
thy  thirsty  people.  For  thou  art  our  God,  who  by 
fire  and  water,  through  Elijah,  didst  set  Israel  free  from 
the  errors  of  Baal. 

"  Do  thou,  the  same  master,  sanctify  now  also  this 
water  by  thy  Holy  Spirit.     {Thrice.) 

"  Grant  also  unto  all  who  shall  be  sprinkled  therewith, 
and  shall  partake  thereof,  and  shall  anoint  themselves 
therewith,  sanctification,  blessing,  purification  and 
bodily  health. 

"  Save,  O  Lord,  and  show  mercy  upon  the  most  holy 
Governing  Synod,  and  keep  them  in  peace  beneath  thy 
shelter.  Subdue  under  them  every  foe  and  adversary  ; 
grant  unto  them  all  their  petitions  which  are  unto 
salvation  and  life  eternal ;  that  with  the  elements,  and 
men,  and  Angels,  and  with  all  things  visible  and  in- 
visible, they  may  magnify  thy  most  holy  Name,  together 
with  the  Father,  and  the  Holy  Spirit,  now  and  ever, 
and  unto  ages  of  ages.  Amen. 

Priest.     Peace  be  with  you. 

Choir.       And  with  thy  spirit. 

Deacon.     Bow  your  heads  unto  the  Lord. 

Choir.       To  thee,  O  Lord." 

What  a  beautiful  and  reverent  recognition  of  the 
power  of  God  prepares  the  way  for  the  petition  of 
sanctification,  and  what  a  noble  and  confident  upHfting 
of  mankind  is  in  the  final  aspiration. 

I  hesitate  to  give  any  longer  quotations,  but  there 
are  some  sentences  in  a  prayer  of  St.  Basil  for  the 

164 


Some  Beautiful   Prayers 

Sixth  Hour,  which  I  always  think  Stevenson  must  have 
known,  and  which  seem  to  me  extraordinarily  vivid 
and  beautiful  : 

"...  Who  by  his  precious  cross  didst  destroy  the  hand- 
writing of  our  sins.  .  .  .  DeHver  us  from  every  harm- 
ful and  gloomy  transgression.  .  .  .  Nail  our  flesh  to 
the  fear  of  thee,  and  incUne  not  our  hearts  to  words 
or  thoughts  of  guile,  but  wound  our  souls  with  the 
love  of  thee.  ..." 

Surely  "  the  Celestial  Surgeon  "  had  ancestry  here. 

Another  gem  from  the  rich  store  is  a  little  prayer 
of  St.  Ephraim  the  Syrian  : 

"  O  Lord  and  Master  of  my  life,  grant  not  unto  me 
a  spirit  of  slothfulness,  of  discouragement,  of  lust  of 
power,  of  vain  babbling. 

"  But  vouchsafe  unto  thy  servant  the  spirit  of  conti- 
nence, of  meekness,  of  patience,  and  of  love. 

"  Yea,  O  Lord  and  King,  grant  that  I  may  perceive 
my  own  transgressions,  and  judge  not  my  brother. 
For  blest  art  thou  unto  ages  of  ages.     Amen.  " 

The  symbolism  and  rubrics  of  the  Church  are  too 
elaborate  to  be  touched  on  except  by  a  specialist ; 
even  the  rubric  of  bell-pealing  is  detailed  and  compli- 
cated ;  and  the  shape  of  all  the  church,  its  furnishings 
and  ut'ensils  are  all  full  of  meaning,  though  I  imagine 
much  is  forgotten  by  the  congregation.  The  triple- 
doored  screen  bars  the  Holy  of  Holies  from  unordained 
men,  and  from  all  women  ;  while  in  former  days  women 
were  allowed  only  in  the  screened  galleries  at  the  west 

165 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


end  of  the  church. 

The  orders  of  angels  are  still  believed  in  and  invoked ; 
the  angels  keep  their  ancient  places  as  "  the  honourable 
bodiless  powers  of  Heaven."     Here  is  a  short  hymn  : — 

"  O  ye  chieftains  of  God,  Servitors  of  the  Divine 
glory,  Guides  of  Men  and  Captains  of  the  Bodiless 
Powers  :  Entreat  that  which  is  profitable  for  us,  and 
great  mercy ;  in  that  ye  are  the  Chieftains  of  the 
Bodiless  Powers." 

The  Virgin  is  invoked  as  "  Queen  over  all  and  Maiden 
of  God.  .  .  .  Mother  of  the  everlasting  light,  Hail 
Queen,  thou  glory  of  Motherhood,  Maidenhead  .  .  . 
Mother  of  Life  .  .  .  Abode  of  thy  Maker  iUimitable." 

The  Litanies  are  so  very  varied  and  beautiful  that 
it  is  impossible  to  select  from  them.  One  short  extract 
must  end  this  digression.  It  is  one  of  the  four  Exor- 
cisms of  the  Devil  at  baptism  :— 

"Preserve  the  child  .  .  .  from  every  poison  and 
perplexity,  from  every  storm  of  adversity,  and  from 
evil  spirits,  whether  of  the  day  or  of  the  night  .  .  .  and 
hedge  her  round  about  with  bright  and  shining  angels, 
and  preserve  her  from  every  invasion  of  evil  spirits  .  .  . 
and  from  the  evil  eye." 

A  very  deliberate  care  for  detail  here  guards  the 
infant  from  every  variety  of  evil  and  seems  a  character- 
istic of  the  church. 

The  Greek  services  must  surely  have  been  made  for 
more  diligent  or  more  patient  worshippers  than  are 
we  of  the  west ;    for  with  long  prayers  and  chantings 

1 66 


The   Feast  of  Feasts 


and  responses,  with  repetitions  and  exorcisms  and 
litanies,  they  often  run  on  for  a  couple  of  hours  or  more. 
The  while,  the  congregation  must  stand,  for  only  the 
more  important  churches  have  even  a  few  stalls  or 
miserere  stools  against  their  walls,  and  there  is  never 
a  pew  or  bench  for  the  weary. 

To  the  blessing  of  village  wells  at  this  season,  the 
villagers  go  in  procession  with  their  priests.  Corfiotes 
are  very  particular  in  this  respect,  for  the  island's 
droughts  are  serious  and  damaging  and  frequent 
enough  to  be  had  ever  in  remembrance.  But  perhaps 
the  abundant  fishing  of  their  coasts  is  cause  for  Cor- 
fiotes, alone  of  all  Greeks,  omitting  the  blessing  of 
the  sea. 

Easter  is  called  "  the  feast  of  feasts  "  in  the  Greek 
Church  ;  no  other  approaches  it  in  importance  ;  and 
it  is  preceded  by  the  longest  fast  of  all  the  abstemious 
Greek  year.  Forty-six  days  all  told,  for  the  forty  days* 
fast  finishes  before  Palm  Sunday,  and  then  there  is  the 
fast  of  Holy  Week.  It  is  a  complicated  fast,  for  the 
forty  days  is  again  preceded  by  meat-fast  week,  during 
which  the  animal  products  of  cheese,  milk,  butter  and 
eggs  are  permitted,  but  no  flesh. 

No  animal  products  are  allowed  during  the  first  and 
last  weeks  of  the  great  fast,  nor  on  each  Wednesday  and 
Friday  of  it ;  and  some  people  keep  this  strict  rule  for 
the  whole  forty-six  days.  On  Good  Friday  even  oil 
is  prohibited,  and  the  rule  on  this  day  seems  quite 
universally  kept.     Though  within  the  last  two  years 

167 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


the  Greek  rule  has  been  modified  almost  to  the  leniency 
of  the  Roman,  the  peasants  continue  in  the  ancient 
unindulged  regime. 

In  some  ill-prospered  parts  the  poor  folk  have  been 
known  to  ask  their  priests  to  make  more  fasts — "  for  it 
is  easier  to  go  hungry  then  "  ! 

Though  many  of  the  educated  have  outgrown  the 
salutary  rule  of  the  fast,  few  Corfiotes  have  abandoned 
the  sacrifice  of  the  Passover  lamb  at  their  threshold  ; 
wherefore  the  reddened  doorposts  and  ghoulish  sights 
of  the  streets  are  to  be  avoided  on  Easter  Eve. 

Lamb  and  dancing  are  the  unchanging  and  only 
entertainments  of  the  peasant.  Weather  permitting, 
the  villages  dance  even  at  the  winter  festas,  but  it  is 
at  Easter  that  the  season  of  village  balls  really  begins, 
when  costumes  of  flaming  brilliance  collect  under 
wayside  olives  and  circle  kaleidoscopically  in  the  main 
streets. 

On  Easter  the  villages  dance  for  two  days,  with  a 
staying  power  known  only  to  peasants;  and  amazing 
quantities  of  lamb  are  disposed  of  by  people  who  know 
the  hunger  of  the  lean  years  when  olives  fail.  No  vil- 
lage festa  is  complete  without  an  adequate  supply  of 
the  long  spitted  bodies,  each  slowly  turned  by  a  small 
boy,  over  embers  on  the  earth.  When  the  thing  is 
cooked  its  proprietor  stands  in  those  alpine  attitudes 
to  which  the  long  spit  lends  itself,  and  just  cuts  the 
body  shorter  and  shorter  till  all  is  consumed. 

The  peasant  who  makes  his  daily  meal  of  bread 

i68 


Sta.     BARBARA,     POTAMO. 


Bridal  Dances 


alone,  with  a  trifle  of  oil  or  cheese,  maybe,  or  of  garlic 
and  greens,  but  oftenest  just  bread,  will  take  his  feast 
of  too  solid  flesh,  equally  without  accompaniment. 
And  of  lamb  that  has  had  a  name,  too,  and  a  red  braid 
for  its  neck.  Alack  the  day  when  fate's  rough  hand 
seizes  any  portion  of  its  young  anatomy  that  comes  to 
hand,  and  hurries  it  to  the  slaughter. 

As  spring  festas  are  fashionable  seasons  for  peasant 
weddings,  bridal  dances  are  numerous  from  Easter 
onwards ;  so  in  the  larger  villages,  if  it  is  not  a  poor 
year,  there  will  be  a  dance  of  some  kind  nearly  every 
Sunday.  The  bride  on  these  occasions  is  expected  to 
dance  through  the  programme,  a  feat  of  endurance 
through  which  she  is  probably  sustained  by  the 
eclipsing  splendour  of  her  costume.  For,  added  to 
the  normally  elaborate  and  distinguished  coiffure,  the 
bride  wears  a  massive  wreath  of  gay  ribbons,  tinsel, 
and  small  varicoloured  flowers ;  and  her  muslin 
bollia,  instead  of  dropping  in  soft  folds,  is  stiffened 
high  above  all  this,  and  scattered  with  drops  of  gold 
and  flowers.  The  fine  stitchery  of  her  full  white  smock 
is  hidden  under  a  shower  of  light  gold  ornaments,  and 
her  velvet  and  gold  embroidered  vest  and  jacket  are 
the  richest  and  newest. 

As  bridehood  continues  from  the  time  of  betrothal 
till  after  the  marriage,  there  may  be  quite  a  bevy  of 
these  resplendent  damsels  clustered  in  the  van  of  the 
women's  chain ;  those  of  lesser  glory  are  towards  the 
rear,  and  a  fringe  of  little  uncoiffed  girls  and  children 

169 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


clings  at  the  skirts. 

Besides  the  great  festivals  universal  to  Christ,  the 
Virgin,  and  the  great  saints,  different  districts  and 
villages  have  festas  commemorating  their  own  special 
patrons.  These  local  fanegyrie  are  rather  different 
from  the  rest,  more  in  the  nature  of  rustic  fairs  to  which 
the  neighbourhood  gathers.  Gastouri  has  its  fanegyrie 
for  the  nativity  of  the  Virgin  (September  8th  o.s.), 
patroness  of  the  chief  church  of  the  village.  There 
are  about  eight  other  chapels,  all  served  hy  the  two 
village  priests.  There  are  booths  of  painted  ginger- 
bread, and  ring  cakes  galore,  and  sweets  and  wine,  and 
of  course  many  roast  lambs.  And  a  bit  of  a  band  from 
town,  unfortunately,  because  we  are  very  up-to-date 
in  Gastouri.  But  Gastouri  cannot  dance  to  the  opera 
tunes,  and  the  town  musicians  drown  their  country 
cousins'  airs  of  mandoline  and  guitar,  so  the  band  is  a 
regrettable  and  cacophonous  innovation. 

There  is  a  great  panegyrie  at  the  feast  of  the 
Ascension,  held  on  a  high  green  sward  overlooking 
the  sea  between  Mon  Repos  and  the  Canone.  As  the 
most  ancient  ruins  in  the  island  are  about  this  spot, 
and  it  could  not  be  more  beautifully  adapted  to  its 
purpose,  imagination  may  be  allowed  a  long  stretch 
backwards  for  the  origins  of  this  assembly.  But 
it  is  so  near  town  that  much  of  its  distinctive 
character  is  now  lost  in  the  nondescript  crowd  of 
spectators. 

The  most  beautiful  panegyrie  I  have  seen  is   that 

170 


A   Panegyric 


held  in  a  grove  of  wonderful  ancient  olives  at  Mesonghi 
beyond  Benizza,  on  the  festa  of  St.  Constandinos, 
May  3rd.  We  came  to  it  in  the  afternoon,  passing 
groups  of  lustily  singing  and  steadily  tramping  peasants 
from  the  more  distant  villages,  barefoot  and  carrying 
their  shoes,  a  blaze  of  colour  on  the  blazing  road. 

We  found  the  centre  of  the  wood  alive  with  circles 
of  dancers ;  its  outskirts  sprinkled  with  their  donkeys 
and  horses ;  groups  of  peasants  resting  about  the 
giant  boles  of  the  olives,  and  numerous  little  boys 
acting  turnspit  to  whole  and  horrible  lambs. 

The  Lefkimme  women  who  come  from  the  south 
wear  bollias  of  orange  and  yellow  instead  of  the  white 
musHn  of  our  district,  gold  embroidery  all  but  hides 
the  coloured  velvet  of  their  coats  and  vests,  and  their 
skirts  are  of  shot  silk  of  green  and  purple  and  blue, 
with  the  gayest  and  most  coquettish  muslin  aprons. 
Some  have  six  silver  balls,  as  big  as  fair-sized  apples, 
hung  from  the  right  front  of  their  jackets,  in  over- 
grown   but    pleasing    symbolism    of    buttons. 

The  secret  magic  of  the  olive-trees  was  in  the  light ; 
and  through  the  blue  drift  of  wood  smoke  and  the 
enchanted  sunlight  the  picture  leapt  from  the  ethereal 
glamour  of  a  Watteau  into  the  daring  colours  of  modern 
Spanish  painters,  and  again  receded  into  the  dim  en- 
chantment of  a  fairy  tale.  Who  knows  in  what 
dynasty  of  fairies  was  such  a  festa  begun  ! 


171 


CHAPTER  X 

Saint  Spiridione 

MORE  important  to  the  Corfiotes  than  any 
other  feste  are  the  great  feast-days  of 
S.  Spiridione,  patron  of  all  Corfu,  and  a 
saint  most  potent  and  revered  throughout  and  beyond 
the  island. 

Saint  Spiridione  was  a  shepherd,  who  after  the  death 
of  his  wife  became  a  monk,  and  finally  Bishop  of 
Trimython,  his  birthplace  in  Cyprus.  He  was  one 
of  the  fathers  at  the  famous  council  of  Nicsea,  a.d.  325, 
and  it  is  recorded  that  there  he  gave  miraculous  testi- 
mony to  the  disputed  doctrine  of  the  Holy  Trinity ; 
for  a  brick  which  he  held  in  his  right  hand  was  suddenly 
hurled  to  the  ground  and  from  it  a  stream  of  water 
and  fire  burst  forth,  thus  demonstrating  the  Trinity 
in  unity. 

Other  miracles  are  recorded  of  him  later,  so  that 
when  he  died  in  350,  at  over  ninety  years  of  age,  it  is 
natural  that  his  relics  were  greatly  treasured.  He  was 
buried  in  Cyprus,  but  after  a  hundred  and  one  years 
his  body  was  exhumed  because  of  the  sweet-smelling 
evaporation  that  came  from  the  tomb,  and  was  kept 
for  two  hundred  years  in  his  church  at  Trimython. 

When  Cyprus  fell  to  the  Saracens,  the  holy  corpse 
was  transported    to  Constantinople,  and    when    that 

172 


Saint  Spiridione 


city  also  fell  to  the  Moslems  in  the  Turkish  conquest 
of  1453,  "  George  Kalaichairetis,  a  priest,  and  a  wealthy 
and  honoured  citizen  of  Constantinople,  took  thought 
how  to  preserve  the  bodies  of  St.  Spiridion  and  of  St. 
Theodora  Augusta,  which  were  then  both  reposing 
in  his  church.  He  put  the  bodies  into  two  sacks  of 
straw,  placed  these  on  a  mule,  and  led  them  safely 
through  the  devastated  Greek  country,  easily  persuading 
any  people  he  met  on  the  way,  that  his  mule's  burden 
contained  nothing  but  the  animal's  food." 

George  remained  with  his  sacred  charge  at  Para- 
mythion  on  the  opposite  coast  of  Epiros  till  1456,  when 
he  brought  the  two  bodies  to  Corfu  and  placed  them 
in  the  church  of  the  Archangel  Michael. 

During  the  siege  and  subsequent  alterations  in  the 
town  the  relics  were  always  carefully  guarded  from  harm 
and  risks,  and  finally  in  1595  S.  Spiridione  was  installed 
in  the  newly  completed  church  bearing  his  name, 
where  he  has  been  worshipped  with  due  honours  ever 
since  ;  while  S.  Theodore  was  placed  in  the  Cathedral, 
where  she  also  is  still  enshrined. 

When  the  priest,  George  Kalaichairetis  died,  his 
property — the  embalmed  saints,  for  we  hear  nothing 
of  other  riches — was  divided  among  his  three  sons, 
the  two  elder  sharing  St.  Spiridione,  while  the  youngest 
took  St.  Theodora.  The  last,  however,  subsequently 
gave  his  relic  to  the  community  in  1483. 

George's  eldest  son,  Philip,  a  priest,  inherited  his 
younger  brother's  share  of  S.  Spiridione  in  1489,  and 

Jt73 


An  Artist  in   Corfu 


was  then  commissioned  to  take  the  body  to  Venice ; 
but  the  tears  and  entreaties  of  the  Corfiotes  prevailed 
and  the  project  was  abandoned. 

When  Philip  died,  a  half  share  of  S.  Spiridione  fell 
to  his  widow  and  his  little  daughter  Asimene,  and  the 
other  half  to  his  brother  Luke  (the  youngest,  who  had 
possessed  and  given  away  S.  Theodora).  The  latter 
subsequently  gave  his  share  as  a  wedding  gift  to  the 
said  Asimene,  who  thus  became  sole  heritress  of  this 
so  carefully  bequeathed  saint. 

Asimene,  with  no  other  dowry  than  the  saint,  was 
in  1527  wooed  and  wed  by  Stamation  Boulgaris,  a 
noble  Corfiote,  and  by  her  will  left  the  sacred  relic  to 
the  children  of  this  marriage  and  to  their  descendants 
in  perpetuity,  so  long  as  one  in  the  family  should  be  a 
priest. 

Thus  it  happens  that  S.  Theodora  belongs  to  Corfu, 
but  S.  Spiridione  belongs  to  the  Boulgaris  to  this  day. 
And,  in  taking  the  dowerless  Asimene  Kalaichairetis, 
Stamation  gave  to  his  heirs  the  most  precious  possession 
in  Corfu,  and  the  church  of  the  richest  offerings. 

For,  shortly  after  his  arrival  in  the  island,  S.  Spiri- 
dione began  to  manifest  his  special  patronage  of  the 
Corfiotes  by  miraculous  cures  of  his  suppliants,  and 
the  shrine  became  a  famous  place  of  pilgrimage,  and 
rich  in  thank  offerings. 

One  of  the  first  records  is  that  of  a  blind  boy  pilgrim, 
Thomas,  who  fell  asleep  in  his  church,  where  the  saint 
appeared  to  him  and  restored  his  sight.     (Dimitri  can 

174 


Saint   Spiridione 


show  each  attitude,  word  and  gesture  of  this  cure.) 
Soon  followed  other  and  greater  miracles,  till  S.  Spiri- 
dione was  recognised  as  the  undoubted  patron  and 
faithful  protector  of  all  the  island. 

The  casket  of  S.  Spiridione  rests  in  a  richly  wrought 
silver  sarcophagus  within  the  shrine  of  his  church  ; 
and  the  very  magnificent  and  varied  lamps  of  gold  and 
silver  which  hang  from  the  church  roof  testify  to  a 
wide  appreciation  of  the  saintly  powers.  For  these 
lamps  have  come  from  Venice  and  even  from  Turkey, 
as  thank-offerings  for  help  given  or,  in  some  cases,  as 
propitiations  for  oflFences  against  the  saintly  power. 
They  are  splendidly  wrought,  unsparing  in  weight  and 
workmanship.  Other  treasures  there  are,  too,  not 
usually  shown  :  a  chalice  ascribed  to  Cellini,  massive 
gold  altar  vessels  and  censers  of  exquisite  Venetian  crafts- 
manship, and  strange  old  holy  cloths  and  rich  vestments. 

Four  times  in  the  year  the  casket  of  the  saint  is 
brought  out  to  make  procession  round  the  town,  on 
the  anniversaries  of  those  days  when  he  saved  Corfu 
from  Turks,  from  plague,  and  from  famine.  And  on 
his  festa,  which  corresponds  to  our  Christmas  Eve, 
and  at  Easter,  this  casket  of  gold  and  glass,  jewel-hung, 
is  placed  on  a  silver  throne  in  the  church,  where  for 
three  days  and  two  nights  the  body  receives  the  homage 
of  the  crowd. 

The  gims  of  the  fort  officially  salute  each  exit  and 
entrance  of  the  saint,  and  not  the  most  modern  of 
Corfiotes  but  has  for  him  a  profound  respect. 

175 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


We  attended  the  service  of  the  emergence  of  the 
saint  on  his  festa.  A  dense  crowd  packed  the  church 
to  its  very  screen,  and  the  high  civil  and  miHtary 
officials  on  duty  barely  kept  space  for  the  entry  of  the 
priests.  By  Papa  Boulgari's  kindness  we  were  permitted 
to  ascend  the  winding  wall-stair  to  the  high  pulpit, 
and  peeping  there  behind  its  curtain  we  saw  and  heard 
the  whole  service  from  among  the  silver  lamps  and 
towering  candles. 

The  choir  priests  wear  vestments  of  cloth-of-silver 
and  blue  :  beautiful  things ;  the  bearers  of  the  casket 
wear  old-gold,  and  the  Archbishop  has  very  elaborate 
vestments  of  red  and  gold,  to  which  his  high  black- 
veiled  hat  is  a  severe  foil. 

Before  the  emergence  there  is  a  long  and  great- 
sounding  service  of  intercession,  intoned  and  chanted 
by  several  solo  priests,  with  vibrating  responses  of  base 
chords  from  the  unaccompanied  men's  voices  of  the 
choir.  A  very  ancient-sounding  feeling  of  worship  is 
in  it,  rising  at  times  to  an  almost  visible  heart-throb 
at  the  movement  of  repeated  crossings. 

The  service  culminates  with  the  bringing  out  from 
the  shrine  of  the  holy  body,  which  enters  through  the 
centre  door  of  the  screen,  very  carefully  borne  in  its 
upright  casket  of  gold  and  glass,  and  is  placed  securely 
in  the  silver  canopied  throne  before  the  door  of  the 
shrine. 

Trumpets,  and  the  guns  of  the  fort,  and  a  joyous 
welcome  from  choir  and  church  greet  its  advent. 

176 


Procession  of  Palm  Sunday 

But  unfortunately  a  military  band  is  in  waiting  in  the 
gallery,  and  now  the  fine  old  service  is  incongruously 
marred  by  the  blare  of  a  marching  tune.  The  crowd 
breaks  forward  to  kiss  the  holy  casket,  and  the  service 
is  abruptly  at  an  end. 

On  Palm  Sunday,  on  Easter  Eve,  on  a  certain  Sunday 
in  August,  and  again  in  November,  the  saint  makes  his 
commemorative  progress  round  the  town.  A  very 
stately  ceremony,  to  which  comes  every  peasant  within 
reach,  to  set  it  in  proper  colour  and  feeling. 

The  Procession  of  Palm  Sunday  is  the  finest  and 
takes  the  longest  route,  being  threatened  neither  with 
excessive  heat  nor  wet,  as  the  others  may  be.  The 
streets  hterally  twinkle  in  parts  with  the  throng  of 
gold-hung  women,  their  festa  garb  aflame  in  the  sun- 
shine, and  the  gathering  of  the  varied  costumes — and 
marvellous  headdressing — from  the  different  districts 
is  most  interesting. 

The  long  route  of  Palm  Sunday  takes  about  three 
hours,  as  there  are  halts  at  various  stations  for  prayers, 
and  at  the  Palace  a  special  blessing  for  any  of  the  Royal 
family  who  may  be  present. 

The  procession  is  led  by  many  devotees  in  blue 
cassocks,  bearing,  for  their  saint,  very  beautiful  old  gilt 
Venetian  lanterns  on  long  poles,  enormous  banners  of 
crimson,  gold-edged  and  tasselled,  and  rows  of  huge 
candles,  crowned  with  gold  and  wreathed  with  gay 
ribbon  streamers,  each  candle  in  its  leather  baldric 
making  a  strong  man's  burden  with  frequent  changes. 

177  N 


An   Artist  in   Corfu 


Preceded  by  these  amiable  and  somewhat  irregular 
participants  come  the  bands  of  the  old  and  new  Phil- 
harmonica  (instituted  when  an  English  Governor 
refused  the  customary  loan  of  his  band  for  the  honouring 
of  the  saint).  With  their  plumed  and  brassy  helmets 
they  have  quite  a  martial  air,  and  they  are  followed 
by  a  guard  of  honour. 

Then  open  lines  of  soldiers  flank  the  stately  advance 
of  the  old  priests ;  bearded  men  in  high  black  hats  and 
a  most  beautiful  array  of  vestments.  Except  for  the 
silver-and-blue  of  S.  Spiridione's  choir,  each  robe  is 
unique,  and  must  have  descended  from  the  far  middle 
ages  :  yellow  brocade  with  roses,  emerald  hemmed  with 
gold,  purple  and  mauve  and  red  and  maize  and  every 
rich  and  mellow  colour  one  could  desire  straggling 
gently  down  the  street  in  the  sunshine.  At  last,  at 
the  back  of  his  open  files  of  priests,  comes  the  old 
Archbishop,  mitred,  and  in  all  his  symbolism  of  vest- 
ment. With  him  comes  a  silence  on  the  crowd,  and 
the  pulse  of  hands  fluttering  at  the  sign  of  the  cross. 

For  immediately  after  the  Archbishop  and  a  chanting 
priest  is  the  saint  himself,  borne  by  six  sailors,  under 
an  old  rich  canopy  of  crimson  and  gold,  supported  by 
six  silver  poles  and  six  priests. 

Around  are  more  of  the  great  scarved  and  shining 
headed  candles ;  and  the  movement  of  the  sign  of  the 
cross,  and  the  silence,  pass  on  with  the  progress  of 
the  saint. 

It  is  an  open  and  wholly  genuine  profession  of  faith, 

178 


The   Processions 


and  I  think  no  Corfiote  would  venture  to  discredit 
either  S.  Spiridione's  great  and  special  protection  of 
Corfu,  or  even  the  numberless  smaller  miracles  attri- 
buted to  him. 

I  know  one  man  at  the  present  day,  who  fled  to  Italy 
at  the  hint  of  a  rebellion  in  distant  Athens,  and  who  is 
regularly  ill  with  nervousness  at  election  times,  but  who 
firmly  and  fearlessly  trusts  that  the  saint  will  preserve 
him  and  the  rest  of  Corfu  from  the  surrounding  cholera. 

For  is  it  not  history,  dated  and  signed  and  sealed, 
that  there  were  besieging  Turks,  but  the  saint  kept 
Corfu  inviolate  when  all  Greece  went  under ;  that 
there  was  famine,  and  the  saint  brought  them  ships  of 
food  ;  and  that  plague  and  cholera  were  likewise  stayed 
by  his  holy  power  ? 

According  to  tradition,  the  procession  of  Easter  Eve 
was  the  first  and  oldest,  and  the  exact  date  of  its 
institution  is  unknown ;  but  it  was  confirmed  by  a 
decree  from  Venice  in  1753.  Its  occasion  was  a  terrible 
famine  which  threatened  all  Corfu  with  starvation. 
But  on  Easter  Eve  grain  ships  came  to  port  and  saved 
the  island,  giving  it  true  cause  for  a  most  joyous  Easter. 
These  ships  had  been  destined  for  other  ports,  but  the 
saint  appeared  to  the  captains  and  induced  them  to 
change  their  course  for  Corfu,  where  they  would  sell 
all  their  cargo  most  profitably.  As  the  Venetians 
erected  public  granaries  in  1553,  it  is  surmised  that 
this  miracle  occurred  at  that  date  or  previously.  The 
Easter    Eve   procession   is     not   so   fine   a     spectacle 

179  N  2 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


as  the  others,  for  it  is  in  mourning  for  the  dead 
Christ. 

The  great  Palm  Sunday  procession  is  really  the  finest, 
and  it  comes  next  in  order  of  antiquity. 

In  1629  a  deadly  plague  swept  Italy  and  the  Ionian 
Islands,  threatening  Corfu,  during  the  months  of 
October  and  November,  and  arriving,  it  is  surmised, 
with  some  Turkish  rugs  on  Christmas  Eve.  In  spite 
of  all  precautions  the  plague  spread  rapidly  and  fatal 
cases  occurred  daily.  So  all  the  inhabitants  came  for 
succour  to  the  shrine  of  the  saint,  and  with  tears  be- 
sought his  help  ;  and  the  historian  of  Corfu,  Marmora, 
Hving  at  that  time,  relates  that  most  of  those  attacked 
by  the  disease  saw  the  saint  appear  to  them  in  a  dream, 
promising  them  deliverance  and  health,  whereupon 
they  were  suddenly  restored.  Marmora  also  states 
that  so  long  as  the  disease  still  prevailed  in  the  town, 
a  light  as  of  a  small  lamp  hovered  at  night  over  the 
tower  of  the  church  of  S.  Spiridione  and  was  constantly 
observed  by  the  sentinels  of  the  fortress.  By  Palm 
Sunday  the  plague  had  vanished  from  Corfu  ;  and  ever 
since,  the  anniversary  of  the  deliverance  has  been  cele- 
brated most  splendidly,  the  procession  taking  place  by 
decree  of  the  Venetian  governors,  in  answer  to  a  petition 
from  the  Syndicate  of  Corfu. 

In  1673  plague  or  cholera  again  visited  the  island, 
and  again  S.  Spiridione  was  petitioned  for  its  banish- 
ment. He  prevailed  first  on  July  13th,  the  anniversary 
of  the  miracle  of  blind  Thomas,  when  "  behold,  there 

180 


His  Miracles 


happened  a  second  miracle  :  the  pestilence  ceased,  as 
if  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  ;  men  and  women,  already 
half  dead,  were  all  of  a  sudden  no  longer  sick."  But 
the  plague  returned  later  in  the  year,  and  so  it  was  not 
till  the  first  Sunday  in  November  that  the  island  was 
finally  freed  from  it,  and  it  is  on  this  date  that  the 
thanksgiving  procession  takes  place. 

The  last  great  miracle  was  not  against  the  forces  of 
nature  but  of  man.  Here  it  is,  translated  from  the 
Legendary  of  S.  Spiridione  :  "  The  last  miracle,  which 
took  place  in  our  days  and  before  our  very  eyes,  is 
indeed  wonderful  to  relate  and  most  worthy  of  ad- 
miration. For  in  this  present  year,  1716,  on  the  24th 
Jxme,  the  godless  Hagarites  (Turks)  made  a  furious 
attack,  both  by  land  and  sea,  and  threatened  our  town 
of  Corfu  with  destruction,  so  that  all  the  faithful 
reverently  took  refuge  in  prayer  to  the  Almighty  Lord 
and  Protector  ;  and  verily  they  did  not  fail  in  their 
entreaty ;  since  suddenly  and  contrary  to  all  reason 
and  expectation,  the  besieging  enemy  vanished  Uke 
lightning,  turned  to  sudden  flight  on  the  eleventh  of 
August,  not  being  pursued  at  the  time  except  perhaps 
by  the  invisible  power  of  God  our  Saviour,  in  answer 
to  the  powerful  entreaties  of  the  Saint.  On  account 
of  this,  in  grateful  reverence,  our  God-preserved 
aristocracy  immediately  sent  a  lamp,  chased  in  silver, 
with  many  lights,  to  the  sacred  shrine  of  the  saint,  and 
determined  in  common  council  to  ordain  a  yearly 
procession  with  the  sacred  body  on  the  day  on  which 

181 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


the  deliverance  took  place,  and,  moreover,  that  150 
silver  coins  should  be  distributed  to  the  poor  by  the 
Archbishop  (Roman  Catholic)  and  the  first  priest, 
Protopappos  (Greek)  of  the  town." 

In  the  Life  of  S.  Spiridione  there  is  the  following 
account  of  the  actual  circumstances  of  the  Turkish 
rout.  "...  the  infidel  hordes  suddenly  appeared 
before  the  town,  and  besieged  it  by  land  and  by  sea. 
From  the  beginning  of  the  war  they  oppressed  the 
town  and  the  citizens  with  fire  and  sword,  and  after 
fifty  days,  during  which  many  fierce  battles  were 
fought,  the  barbarians  resolved  to  concentrate  their 
forces  upon  the  town  of  Corfu.  Then  all  the  faithful 
besought  the  help  of  the  saint,  day  and  night,  with 
tears  and  groanings.  Whereupon  while  the  army  of 
the  Hagarites  was  attacking  the  citadel,  a  terrible 
destruction  and  scattering  of  their  forces  was  brought 
about  through  the  intercession  of  the  saint ;  upon  this, 
the  barbarians  breathed  still  greater  vengeance  and 
inhuman  cruelty,  threatening  the  city  with  another 
attack  and  the  dire  calamities  of  captivity  and  death. 
The  entreaties,  however,  and  prayers  of  the  faithful 
did  not  cease,  as  in  humble  reverence  they  called  upon 
the  protection  and  assistance  of  their  common  father, 
nor  did  this  their  prayer  remain  unheard.  For  while 
the  Corfiotes  were  awaiting  wholesale  destruction  by 
the  barbarians — at  early  dawn  one  morning  there  ap- 
peared to  the  enemy  our  great  father  Spiridione,  with 
a  mighty  heavenly  host,  holding  in  his  right  hand  a 

182 


A  Turkish  Rout 


sword  flashing  lightning,  and  furiously  pursuing  them. 
The  Ottoman  soldiers,  on  seeing  such  a  wonderful 
vision,  turned  suddenly  to  flight,  and  in  their  panic, 
from  fear  of  being  wounded  by  an  invisible  enemy, 
fell  over  one  another  in  great  confusion.  So  they  fled 
and  were  destroyed  by  their  fear,  without  enemy,  or 
fire,  or  sword,  or  anything  else  pursuing  them — through 
the  invincible  power  of  our  Lord  God,  on  the  fervent 
intercession  of  the  wonder-working  S.  Spiridione. 
And  when  the  infantry  and  cavalry  retreated,  the 
fleet  also  took  its  departure  and  thus  Corfu  was  left  free. 
So,  on  the  morning  when  the  citizens  were  expecting 
the  usual  fighting,  they  beheld  everything  silent  and 
quiet.  Whereupon  they  went,  full  of  curiosity,  into 
the  tents  of  the  enemy,  and  there  beholding  the  miracle 
that  had  been  performed,  they  leapt  with  joy  and 
rejoiced  at  the  new  and  wonderful  state  of  affairs,  as 
not  only  did  they  see  the  IshmaeUtes  put  to  flight,  but 
they  also  found  all  their  belongings  left  behind  as  booty. 
And  those  who  were  fleeing  openly  confessed  that 
they  had  been  turned  into  sudden  flight  by  a  monk, 
that  is  to  say,  S.  Spiridione,  who  had  appeared  in  the 
air  with  a  glorious  heavenly  host.  Then  all  gladly  and 
reverently  repaired  to  the  saint's  church,  glorifying 
God,  and  giving  thanks  to  the  saint."  * 

So  the  last  procession  of  S.  Spiridione  was  instituted, 
on  August  nth,  in  commemoration  of  this  miracle  on 

•  From  "Saint  Spiridione,  Patron  Saint  of  Corfu,  and  the  processions 
held  in  his  honour."    (L.  Brokinis.     Translated  by  A.  S.  Dawes.) 


183 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


that  date.  This  was  the  Turks'  last  great  assault  on 
Christendom.  Corfu,  which  had  so  long  held  out  as 
the  last  outpost  against  the  Moslem  flood,  turned  back 
the  tide.     Christ  and  Spiridione  triumphed. 

Dimitri's  editions  of  these  miracles  are  really 
delightful,  though  hardly  authentic  in  detail  perhaps. 
But  he  gives  each  word  and  gesture  of  the  saint's  en- 
counter with  the  cholera,  as  of  a  happening  of  this  week; 
till  one  almost  sees  the  discomfited  disease  fleeing  back 
to  Italy  in  the  form  of  a  black  cat. 

His  version  of  the  fast  of  the  Madonna,  in  broad 
Venetian  patois,  is  also  very  charming  and  graphic. 
There  is  a  certain  fortnight  at  the  end  of  August  which 
is  kept  a  more  strict  fast  than  any  other  in  the  year. 
"  And  the  reason  for  this,  Signorina,  is  that  once 
Christ  got  very  very  vexed  with  the  world,  so  that  he 
was  just  going  to  destroy  it  a  second  time  (for  you  know 
it  was  destroyed  once ;  the  old  pieces  are  underneath 
Corfu ;  if  you  dig  in  the  town  you  will  find  them). 
But  Mamma  was  grieved  at  this  and  said  :  There  then, 
leave  it,  leave  it,  my  dear  ;  and  she  fasted  and  prayed 
very  hard  for  a  fortnight,  and  so  she  persuaded  the 
Christ  to  leave  the  world  unbroken.  And  so  we  must 
certainly  keep  this  fast  in  honour  of  the  Virgin,  you  see 
Signorina." 

May  Corfu  long  be  happy  in  such  unquestioning 
faith. 


1 84 


CHAPTER  XI 

Little  Journeys 

THE  hireling  carriage — carozza — ^is  the  universal 
means  of  going  about  in  Corfu.  Even  peasants 
go  shares,  many  shares,  in  the  village  carrozze 
when  travelling  any  considerable  distance  ;  and  the 
Court  officials  in  attendance  on  any  royal  visitors  must 
be  content  with  the  same  mode  of  conveyance,  for 
there  is  no  other.  Cycling,  however,  is  both  possible 
and  pleasant  for  those  who  do  not  mind  the  interrup- 
tions of  long  hills  and  can  manage  their  own  repairing. 
The  English  legacy  of  good  roads  is  very  fairly  main- 
tained, and  by  it  every  district  may  be  visited. 

The  only,  but  important,  difficulty  is  that  of  accom- 
modation. A  stranger  in  Corfu  would  be  limited  to 
his  day's  capacity  for  riding ;  for  except  for  a  tiny 
German  guest-house  at  Gastouri  there  are  no  possible 
lodgings  outside  the  town,  and  though  the  island  is 
not  large  its  mountainous  formation  and  winding  ways 
forbid  any  speedy  review  of  its  charms. 

For  any  one  with  friends  in  the  island  this  difficulty 
hardly  exists,  however,  for  every  little  estate  has  its 
little  country  house — the  properties  of  all  the  island 
are  interwoven  by  generations  of  marriage  portions 
and  subdivisions — and  though  it  is  difficult  for  a  stranger 
to  hire  a  house,  it  is  probable  that  a  friendly  loan  of 

«8S 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


one  will  be  offered  in  any  district  we  would  explore. 
These  little  cottages  or  villas  stand  empty,  as  a  rule, 
for  the  greater  part  of  the  year,  and  though  some  are 
well  tended  and  cared  for  by  their  owners,  they  are  as 
a  rule  allowed  to  fall  into  sad  disrepair  ;  neglected 
shrines  sometimes  for  fine  old  bits  of  despised  Venetian 
handiwork,  long  banished  from  the  Victorian  drawing- 
rooms  in  town. 

My  first  little  journey  in  Corfu  was  during  the  Easter 
holidays,  when  we  went  over  the  back  of  the  Spartile 
range  to  explore  the  northern  circle  of  the  island.  This 
is  probably  the  most  primitive  portion  of  Corfu,  for 
the  mountain  barrier  isolates  it  from  sea  to  sea  and  all 
communications  with  town  and  the  rest  of  the  island 
must  either  be  laboriously  by  pass,  or  circuitously  by 
boat. 

Like  nearly  every  road  in  Corfu,  ours  was  beautiful 
all  the  way.  Westward  from  town,  for  some  miles 
it  skirts  at  shore  level  the  lovely  bay  of  Govino,  the 
bay  which  cuts  the  island  to  within  ten  miles  of  the 
western  sea  ;  then  still  westward  we  passed  inland 
through  pastoral  olive-covered  land  and  little  rocky 
valleys,  rising  gradually  to  the  long  hillside  village  of 
Skripero.  Resting  at  a  wayside  cafe  here  we  had  the 
fortune  to  be  found  by  friends  going  into  the  country 
for  the  holidays,  and,  as  we  were  likewise  fortunate  in 
finding  boys  capable  of  pushing  bicycles,  we  took  the 
pass  of  Pantaleone*  in  their  carozza  luxuriously.    This 


Hagios  Panteleimon. 

i86 


Dust  and   Hospitality 

is  the  highest  road  pass  on  the  island,  1040  feet.  It  is 
the  usual  arrangement  of  severe  zig-zags ;  on  the 
summit  there  is  a  magnificent  view  back  over  all  the 
southern  portion  of  the  island,  the  Straits,  and  the  end- 
less chains  of  Albanian  mountains.  We  reached  the 
summit  at  sunset,  and  the  town  lay  in  the  Straits  Hke 
an  inlaid  jewel  of  gold. 

We  hastened  from  the  bitter  wind,  stumbled  in  the 
dusk  down  a  very  indifferent  track,  and  did  not  reach 
our  borrowed  home  at  Ali  Matadis  until  dark.  It  is 
a  village  of  extreme  poverty  and  unsophistication. 
Kindly  natives  carried  our  cycles  and  steered  ourselves 
down  and  up  the  uncouth  causeways  to  a  house  that 
was  in  all  ways  correspondent  to  its  surroundings.  An 
ancient  caretaker  met  us  in  the  court,  but  though  pre- 
vised of  our  coming,  he  had  thought  no  preparation 
necessary,  and  when  we  got  out  a  candle  and  went 
upstairs  (the  house  was  over  its  magazine  in  the  usual 
way),  we  found  it  unvisited  and  untouched  since  the 
vintage.  The  dust  of  six  months  was  undisturbed  on 
its  crumbling  relics  of  furniture.  But  undisturbed 
we  were  not,  for  from  the  time  we  entered  we  were 
ceaselessly  tormented  with  fleas — why  they  cannot 
go  on  living  on  the  dust  is  always  a  mystery — they  were 
so  voracious  that  even  a  peasant  whom  I  wished  to 
sketch  could  not  sit  still,  and  a  peasant  usually  ignores 
fleas. 

They  certainly  took  toll  on  our  holiday,  but  except 
for  them  it  was  quite  perfect. 

187 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


We  lit  candles,  swept  off  the  thick  of  the  dust,  and 
explored  for  bedding.  (The  beds  were  damper  than 
one  could  have  imagined  possible,  but  this  apparently 
does  not  matter  when  one  is  camping.)  Margariti 
meanwhile  prepared  supper,  for  we  were  quite  tired 
and  hungry.  The  primitive  village  could  produce 
for  us  nothing  but  bread  and  cheese  (and  lamb  of  course 
on  Easter  Day),  but  we  had  brought  a  provident  store 
of  butter,  cake,  chocolate,  many  hard-boiled  eggs,  and 
some  rice  and  coffee,  and  on  these  we  lived  very  happily, 
though  our  last  dinner  was  reduced  to  bread  and  butter, 
cheese  and  chocolate.  The  primitive  village  could 
not  even  produce  charcoal,  so  that  Margariti's  attempts 
at  cooking  were  enhanced  by  the  acid  flavour  of  wood 
smoke.  Margariti  was  a  canny  old  man,  but  too 
obviously  a  tender  of  sheep  ;  and  I  was  sorry  that  I 
happened  to  see  him  taking  his  supper  off  our  loaf. 

Ali  Matadis  perches  high  on  the  northern  side  of 
Spartile  range  :  so  barren  a  hillside  that  one  wonders 
how  the  village  exists  at  all,  and  can  hardly  be 
indignant  at  its  starved  dogs.  The  people  are  fine  in 
type,  though  without  any  of  the  opulence  of  the 
Gastouri  belles.  The  views  are  wonderful.  Beyond 
the  narrow  northern  Straits,  the  towering  white  peaks 
run  sheer  down  into  the  sea,  and  north-west  of  the 
undulating  lowlands  of  Corfu  a  pretty  group  of  islets 
dots  the  sea.  Of  these,  one,  Fano,  is  called  Calypso's 
isle,  and  another  is  the  ship  of  Ulysses  in  full  sail, 
undeniably  "  that  winged  pinnace  "  .  .  .  "  The  God 

i88 


Expeditions 


arrests  her  with  a  sudden  stroke,  And  roots  her  down 
an  everlasting  rock,"  here,  and  not  at  Pontikonisi. 

Our  first  expedition  was  up  over  the  north-western 
shoulder  of  Spartile  and  down  its  most  abrupt  ter- 
mination to  the  sea.  It  was  an  entrancing  walk,  though 
rough  on  untrained  feet.  We  hired  a  small  bearer, 
aged  about  twelve,  who  cheerfully  bore  a  substantial 
sack  of  lunch  and  sketching  kit  by  a  rope  on  his  thinly 
clad  shoulder,  and  skipped  barefoot  far  in  advance  of 
our  labouring  steps. 

We  went  up  the  usual  kind  of  watercourse  pathway, 
and  then  down  the  coast  end  equally  stonily  till  our 
knees  ached,  while  Uke  Tom  over  Vendale,  we  thought 
we  could  have  thrown  stones  into  the  marvellous  sea 
so  far  below.  It  is  even  more  marvellous  here  than 
round  the  rest  of  Corfu,  for  the  coast  is  all  fretted  and 
cut  into  tiny  bays  and  points  and  islets  and  peninsulas, 
and  about  them  the  clear  deep  water  lies,  in  colours 
that  not  poets  could  find  name  for. 

It  is  not  hke  any  other  sea — ^perhaps  they  are  the 
colours  of  the  thoughts  of  its  God  that  still  move  it 
so  wonderfully. 

Half-way  down  to  the  sea  we  rested  at  Lakones,  and 
there  the  village  acquaintance,  who  always  appeared  so 
opportunely  in  our  wanderings,  added  fruit  and  wine 
to  our  luggage,  and  we  were  allowed  to  proceed.  We 
had  still  a  great  depth  to  go ;  indeed  the  sea 
seemed  no  nearer  yet,  for  all  our  descent.  We  went 
almost  straight  now,  down  a  fine  cleft  or  gorge,  with 

189 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


water  the  colour  of  gems  and  enamels  and  flowers 
inset  below  us,  and  great  tufts  of  pure  gold  broom  hung 
in  the  crags  beside.  Cushions  of  Virginian  stock  and 
cystus  lay  about  our  rocky  paths,  and  it  was  on  this 
walk  that  I  found  a  score  of  flowers  for  my  flower-diary, 
though  I  hardly  left  the  most  direct  way  or  had  time 
to  linger  on  it. 

On  the  rock  most  directly  below  us,  and  connected 
only  by  a  shallow  neck  with  the  mainland,  stands  the 
old  monastery  of  Paleokastrizza,  surmised  the  site  of 
an  ancient  fort,  and  most  deservedly  one  of  Corfu's 
show  places.  We  joined  the  main  road  from  town 
about  half  a  mile  from  the  shore.  It  was  hot,  we  missed 
the  mountain  air,  and  found  the  little  climb  to  the 
monastery  absurdly  laborious.  I  wish  you  could  see  it, 
the  primitive  peaceful  place,  with  its  white-washed 
vine-trellised  courts  and  unpretentious  buildings. 
Towards  the  shore  it  is  all  lapped  in  olives  and  almond 
blossom  ;  westward  its  walls  hold  on  to  cliffs  that  drop 
sheer  to  the  waves. 

As  we  climbed  the  road  among  the  olives,  round  a 
corner  into  the  blazing  sun,  we  came  upon  a  flock  of 
sheep,  in  their  midst  a  thin  black  figure,  unshorn  beard 
and  head,  and  the  youngest  lamb  on  his  shoulders. 

In  later  visits  I  made  acquaintance  with  one  or  two 
of  the  monks  and  found  them  as  kindly  and  hospitable  as 
the  rest  of  the  Corfiotes,  and  their  simplicity  apparently 
quite  untouched  by  the  stream  of  spring  visitors.  They 
farm  their  lands,  and  busy  themselves  about  their  oil- 

190 


< 

N 
N 

H 
Ui 

< 

O 
UJ 

J 
< 


The  Abbot  and  Monks 

making  with  their  skirts  kilted  up,  and  probably  they 
differ  very  shghtly  from  their  peasant  neighbours. 
But  it  is  a  place  of  peace. 

There  is  a  large  church  and  a  pillared  court  of  vines, 
and  a  row  of  massive  arched  ways  to  the  cells  of  the 
brethren  over  the  magazines. 

We  had  an  audience  with  the  abbot,  a  venerable 
person  with  wrinkles  ingrained  black,  who  inhabits 
two  cupboard-sized  chambers,  their  walls  covered  with 
fine  old  gold  and  silver  ikons,  and  modern  prints  and 
photographs.  The  Kaiser  had  interviewed  him  only 
a  few  days  before. 

The  beautiful  old  church  plate — great  silver  lamps, 
etc. — was  all  huddled  in  a  box.  Peasants  never  can 
understand  damagable  property  it  seems. 

After  lunch,  kindly  supplemented  by  the  monks,  we 
went  down  to  the  shore  of  the  nearest  bay  and  watched 
the  live  sea,  what  time  the  untiring  boy  gamboled  and 
threw  stones.  Rested  and  refreshed  we  climbed  the 
gorge  to  Lakones,  but  there  we  mutinied.  The  boy  went 
gaily  up  over  the  mountain  with  his  sack,  but  we  chose 
the  northwards  road  with  its  more  gradual  climb  round 
the  mountain's  end.  Lakones  was  horrible,  unsightly 
with  Easter  lamb,  but  we  were  constrained  to  refresh- 
ment in  the  midst ;  the  very  dustiest  room  I  ever  saw, 
the  Town  Hall  I  believe  it  was.  This  northwards  road 
is  on  the  way  to  St.  Angelo,  and  we  had  a  fine  view  of 
that  crag-fast  ruin  beyond  a  sea-deep  gorge.  It 
is    so    very    very    old    that    it     has     forgotten    the 

191 


An   Artist  in  Corfu 


present,  and  lives  and  dreams  among  its  days  of 
young  romance. 

Leaving  the  steep  coastward  mountain-side  we  passed 
inland  through  most  park-like  country  and  then  gradu- 
ally up  on  to  the  broad  back  of  Spartile  again — ^with 
sunset  over  the  whole  length  of  it ;  and  so  back  to 
Margariti's  wood-flavoured  supper  at  the  darkening. 

On  another  day,  equally  fine  and  hot,  we  had  a  very 
pleasant  tour  towards  the  north  coast.  Our  cycles 
were  carried  down  the  stepped  and  cobbled  causeway 
to  the  more  civilised  village  of  Arkadades,  and  from 
there  we  strayed  delightfully  along  the  very  curly 
roads  that  lead  down  to  the  northern  lowlands.  The 
views  were  ever  changing  as  we  circled  among  the  little 
irregular  hills  and  ridges,  and  there  was  no  lack  of 
excitement  riding  through  villages  whose  dogs  were 
new  to  bicycles  and  their  hilly  roads  unsurfaced. 

It  was  Easter  Sunday,  and  we  were  invited  to  lunch 
at  Karusades,  but  could  hardly  escape  delay  from  an- 
other hospitable  friend  who  waylaid  us  at  his  house  in 
a  dear  little  fertile  plain,  with  a  real  permanent  river, 
and  a  mill  not  far  away. 

At  one  place  our  road  was  glorified  for  half  a  mile  or 
more  by  a  fringe  of  asphodel  a  yard  high  and  several 
yards  deep,  shining  most  radiantly. 

Our  hosts  at  Karusades  were  of  the  small  number 
who  live  permanently  in  their  country  home,  and  we 
found  it  an  interesting  old  place,  quite  repaying  our 
particularly  long  and  hot  climb.     There  are  about  it 

192 


Hospitality 


still  hints  of  its  fortified  past.  Its  high-walled  gardens 
stand  above  the  village,  and  its  higher  walled  courts 
above  the  gardens.  As  our  approach  had  not  been 
noticed  we  stood  for  some  time  quite  helplessly  without 
the  walls.  But  once  admitted,  we  found  the  patri- 
archal household  as  kindly  hospitable  as  any  in  Corfu. 
The  house  rambled  along  in  the  midst  and  above  its 
strong  old  courtyards  in  a  desultory  way,  having  from 
time  to  time  amiably  accommodated  itself  to  the 
patriarchal  needs.  The  gardens  were  well  kept,  and 
very  charming  with  their  spring  flowers  ;  the  house 
was — not  so  well  kept ;  the  inhabitants — well,  no 
Corfiote  but  a  peasant  will  ever  put  on  a  new  gar- 
ment in  the  country,  and  though  it  was  Easter 
Sunday  the  patriarchs  and  their  descendants  did  not 
compete  with  the  Easter  costumes  of  their  peasants. 
We  parted  from  these  kind  hosts  with  many  delays 
and  armfuls  of  fragrant  blossoms,  after  watching  the 
village  dance.  Enjoying  the  cooler  ride  down,  we 
were  again  constrained  to  pause  at  the  friends*  in  the 
plain.  We  were  refreshed  with  coffee,  of  course,  and 
they  insisted  on  escorting  us  home,  in  turn,  in  the 
queerest  little  pony  trap,  funnier  and  crookeder  even 
than  Babatzo's.  We  enjoyed  the  arrangement  of 
sunset  lighting  on  this  side  of  the  mountain,  new  to  us, 
and  the  dusk  was  lovely  too,  on  the  high  road  we 
followed  along  the  steep  side  of  it,  by  giant  cypresses 
and  sleepy  hamlets,  through  the  blessed  silence,  with 
a  murmur  of  the  legends  of  Spiridione  on  our  ears. 

193  o 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


We  left  our  bicycles  at  Arkadades  for  the  morrow,  and 
stumbled  up  the  half-mile  or  so  of  causeway  as  well  as 
we  could ;  in  the  dusk,  as  usual,  before  we  got  back 
to  Margariti  and  his  wood-smoked  provision. 

The  villages  we  passed  had  all  been  dancing  ;  but  it 
was  on  Monday  that  we  chanced  on  the  best  dances, 
and  saw,  I  think,  on  the  whole,  the  most  wonderful 
country.  Among  all  the  enchanting  beauties  of  Corfu 
that  day  stands  alone,  having  for  sole  rival  the  day  of 
our  later  pilgrimage  to  Castelangelo. 

Having  packed  away  the  borrowed  house  for  another 
long  sleep,  by  nine  o'clock  on  Monday  morning  we 
started  downhill  for  our  cycles  :  I  found  mine  with  a 
broken  brake,  but  fortunately  also  in  the  next  village 
a  genius  who  mended  it,  and  so  wound  back  to  our 
friends  in  the  plain.  Here  hospitality  was  only  satisfied 
by  our  pausing  for  several  hours  while  a  simple  but 
excellent  feast  was  prepared  and  eaten.  This  little 
home  was  a  great  contrast  to  the  straggling  household 
of  yesterday.  A  tiny  but  very  well  kept  house  standing 
simply  among  garden  and  farm  buildings  beside  the 
road,  very  primitive  but  cared  for  and  compact.  In 
these  days  it  is  quite  strange  to  come  on  such  entirely 
isolated  lives  as  these,  in  the  winter  seeing  no  one,  at 
other  seasons  equally  isolated,  but  for  a  very  occasional 
visit  to  town.  Quite  happy,  with  their  powder-flask 
of  gourd,  and  their  shot-horn  of  bamboo,  their  home- 
grown fare  and  home-made  appliances. 

Our  friends  again  escorted  us  on  our  way,  taking  E. 

194 


Roadside  Diversions 


in  the  comical  pony  cart  right  to  the  farther  side  of 
the  mountains.  It  was  sunsetting  ere  we  parted ; 
and  then  the  dogged  little  pony  Fly  was  to  bring  them 
home  again  over  that  tremendous  range. 

We  went  back  on  our  tracks  from  the  little  house 
as  far  as  the  mill,  then  turned  leftwards  to  approach 
the  mountain  chain  at  Sokraki,  further  east  than  at 
Pantaleone.  The  road  meandered  with  persistence 
and  great  beauty,  and  climbed  by  very  slow  gradations 
from  the  full  luxuriance  of  olives  and  plains  to  the 
wildest  rocky  valleys.  It  was  a  glorious  day  of  sunshine 
and  fresh  wind,  and  among  the  grey  and  golden  rocks 
the  olive-trees  hung  above  us  like  pure  silver  against 
the  intense  blue  of  the  sky.  I  have  never  felt  anything 
more  exhilarating  and  joyous  than  the  air  that  day, 
nor  seen  more  loveliness  than  there  was,  above  and 
below  and  around  the  windings  of  that  mountain  road, 
and  stretched  away  over  land  and  sea.  It  is  strange 
that  the  people  no  longer  see  gods  in  their  trees  and 
waters  and  hills. 

We  passed  through  several  little  eagle's-nest  villages, 
and  others  hung  higher  still  on  the  rocky  shoulders  of 
the  mountains.  The  people  were  all  dancing,  and  the 
twinkle  of  festa  clothes  carried  from  the  far  high 
distance.  How  we  turned  and  twisted  about.  The  road 
became  quite  hard  work  for  pushing  towards  the  end. 
but  swept  in  such  a  splendid  curve  of  wide  vista  round 
the  mountain-side  that  one  could  not  be  tired.  There 
were  all  the  white  ranges  of  Albania  shining  marvel- 

195  02 


An  Artist  in   Corfu 


lously  above  the  Straits.     There  was  an  organ-song 
of  sunlight  going  up  from  the  whole  earth. 

So  we  climbed  for  about  three  hours  and  gained  the 
head  of  our  pass  at  the  village  of  Sokraki,  where  we 
longed  to  stay  awhile,  but  after  the  heat  of  the  ascent 
the  knife-edged  wind  soon  drove  us  on.  We  took  a 
chilly  shelter  meanwhile  in  a  house  over  the  village 
street,  and  watched  the  finest  dancing  I  have  seen  in 
Corfu. 

The  women's  dresses  were  rich  and  fine,  and  their 
rhythmic  and  unchanging  accompaniment  was  all 
proper.  But  the  men,  the  soloists  always  in  these 
dances — on  the  rough  village  street,  in  socks  or  Turkish 
slippers — danced  as  I  thought  only  professionals  in  a 
finely  trained  ballet  could  do  ;  with  flying  bounds 
across  the  circle  of  dancing  ;  with  intricate  steps  and 
twirlings  in  the  air  ;  and  with  a  perfect  flexibility  and 
lightness  that  one  could  hardly  realise  was  quite  un- 
trained. 

The  cold  drove  us  reluctantly  on,  down  the  very 
steepest  mountain-side  that  a  road  could  hang  on. 
Our  way  lay  like  a  knotted  string  below  us,  so  tightly 
curled  we  could  see  it  only  in  parts  ;  and  it  had  horrible 
giddy  corners  with  the  surface  off  too. 

We  had  seen  so  much,  near  and  far,  in  our  climbing 
and  crossing,  that  when  we  came  down  to  the  asphodel 
levels  the  plant  seemed  like  a  friend  long  unseen.  We 
passed  along  the  big  village  town  of  Korakiana,  impor- 
tant enough  to  support  two  or  three  dances,  and  after 

196 


An  Expedition  to  the  South 

another  mile  or  two,  said  good-bye  to  our  friends,  who 
were  going  to  return  by  Skripero  and  Pantaleone.  In 
clear  gold  sunset  and  pansy  dusk  we  circled  the  bay  of 
Ypso,  felt  like  returned  wanderers  along  our  familiar 
Gastouri  road,  and  climbed  the  gorge  short-cut  by 
moonlight  and  the  first  fireflies  of  the  season.  We 
arrived  about  nine  o'clock  to  find  the  servants  were 
going  to  bed,  haiving  forgotten  we  were  returning,  and 
there  was  neither  food  nor  fire  prepared  for  us.  Horrid 
anti-climax  !   but  the  ecstasy  of  the  day  outlasted  it. 

Our  next  expedition  was  at  Whitsuntide,  June  13th, 
and  already  hot  weather,  so  we  started  about  five 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  We  were  going  southwards 
this  time,  and  our  first  toil  was  to  get  up  the  wearisome 
hill  to  Santi  Deka — our  opposite  neighbouring  village 
that  looks  so  near,  on  its  mountain  side,  and  has  such 
a  depth  between.  Fortunately,  though  it  was  festa, 
we  managed  to  secure  a  boy  for  our  laden  bicycles,  so 
had  not  to  face  the  endless  zig-zags  of  the  main  road. 
There  are  (I  need  hardly  say  so,  perhaps  !)  fine  views 
from  the  mountain-side,  and  Gastouri  would  be  perfect 
from  here  if  the  excessive  bulk  of  the  Achilleion  and 
its  annexe  did  not  so  disturb  the  picture. 

From  S.  Deka  village  the  road  climbs  more  gently 
towards  Stavro,  and  then  passes  south-west  between  the 
two  mountains  and  comes  out  very  high  over  a  long 
plain  stretching  southward  to  the  sea.  It  is  worth 
some  toil  to  come  through  here  to  the  west  at  sunset 
time,  and  this  road  has  always  favoured  me  with  some 

197 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


particular  manifestation ;  a  wedding  procession, — a 
bringing  home  of  dowry, — or  some  gay  enhancement  of 
its  charms. 

For  this  my  first  sight  it  gave  me  a  blaze  of  most 
golden  sunset  light  flat  on  to  the  precipitous  mountain 
side ;  and  in  its  full  glory  the  whole  homebound 
population  of  the  village,  party  after  party,  strung  along 
the  cliff  in  colour  like  flame  above  the  blue  valley 
shadows.     A  goodly  sight  to  see. 

We  ran  down  by  gentle  slopes  through  several  miles 
of  glorious  sunset  into  the  plain.  Peaks  and  pyramids 
of  hill,  with  here  and  there  a  touch  of  the  sea  between, 
cut  up  into  the  glowing  sky ;  and  at  earliest  dusk  the  full 
moon  rose,  while  we  went  on  southward  to  the  shore. 

Perhaps  olives  look  best  by  moonlight ;  I  am  not 
sure. — The  lovely  oft-enchanted  trees ! 

When  we  came  near  the  sea  there  were  flat  spaces  of 
sands  and  wide  lagoons  :  strange  they  seemed  in  craggy 
Corfu.  We  turned  eastward  for  a  mile  or  two  and 
presently  came  to  the  foot  of  a  hill  on  our  left,  leading 
up  into  a  mystery  of  olives  and  moonlight.  There 
was  no  village  ;  the  few  cottages  we  had  passed  had 
all  been  deep  asleep.  There  was  no  one  to  wheel  our 
bicycles  !  Had  we  known  how  far  and  steep  and  stony 
was  the  road,  I  think  we  would  have  slept  by  the  way- 
side. But  we  went  on  and  on  in  hope,  and  by  about 
ten  o'clock  reached  the  high  village  of  Khlomos,  were 
guided  to  our  charming  borrowed  house,  and  all  our 
toils  repaid  by  Corfu's  delightful  trick  of  an  unantici- 

198 


Mountain  and  Sea 


pated  and  glorious  view.  The  house  lies  seaward  from 
the  village,  at  the  very  corner  of  that  coned  hill  in  the 
sickle's  bend.  The  windows  of  my  room  looked  north 
and  east.  Ah,  the  loveliest  Straits,  in  that  Corfiote 
moonlight  that  has  no  black  in  it !  Away  to  the  north 
the  lights  of  forts  and  town  twinkled,  and  even  Spartile 
beyond  was  faintly  visible  in  that  radiant  atmosphere. 

The  night  was  so  fresh  up  there,  and  the  morning 
glorious.  Northwards  our  mountain  falls  almost  preci- 
pitously towards  the  sea;  but  eastward  rolls  in  olive-clad 
hills  to  the  slender  exquisite  curve  of  the  sickle  point. 

Southward,  the  open  sea,  and  little  Paxos  and  Anti- 
paxos. 

Our  borrowed  house  was  beautifully  kept  for  an 
attentive  master  ;  had  even  an  excellent  cook  care- 
taker, and  of  necessities  lacked  only — a  road,  and  water  ! 
There  was  no  way  of  approach  but  the  vague  and  rocky 
foot-ways  about  the  backs  of  village  huts.  And  all 
water  had  to  be  carried  from  a  distance  on  donkey- 
back.  So  that  a  young  attempt  at  an  orchard  was  a 
barren  and  piteous  sight,  though  the  courtyard  was 
beautiful  with  oleanders  in  fullest  flower  and  scent. 

The  village  ran  further  up  the  mountain,  a  most 
unspoilt  and  picturesque  place  of  steep  ways  and  cheerful 
simplicity.  It  had  not  the  pinched  and  barbaric 
pearance  of  Ali  Metadis, — possibly  a  result  of  a  partly 
resident  landlord, — and  the  people  were  charming  and 
most  friendly. 

I  had  hardly  penetrated  far,   on  the  Whitsunday 

199 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


morning,  and  was  sketching,  sorely  afflicted  with  dust 
and  too  warmly  interested  natives,  in  a  narrow  and 
ancient  alley,  when  a  Httle  procession  of  fiddler  and 
priest  passed  gaily  down,  and  I  learned  that  I  would 
see  my  first  village  wedding  in  this  delightful  place. 

The  wedding  occupied  us  nearly  the  whole  day,  but 
we  took  a  rest  in  the  middle,  for  it  was  very  hot. 

First  we  were  led  to  the  house  of  the  bride,  where 
strong  hands  dragged  us  through  the  waiting  crowd, 
up  the  packed  staircase  to  the  upper  room.  Here  we 
were  introduced  as  honoured  guests  to  see  the  counting 
of  the  dowry. 

In  order  that  there  may  be  no  after  disputes  and 
recriminations,  the  stipulated  dower  is  catalogued  and 
read  from  a  list  by  the  bride's  father,  and  as  each  item 
is  named  it  is  picked  up  by  one  of  the  bride's  maids 
and  carried  out  on  her  head  :  mattresses,  linen,  heaps 
of  blue  cotton  skirts,  aprons,  kerchiefs,  furniture,  and 
festa  clothes  with  their  gayest  side  displayed.  It  is  a 
brave  show,  and  then  when  all  is  counted  the  fiddler 
heads  the  excited  and  chattering  procession  up  the 
steep  ways  (not  even  cobbled  here — just  worn  mountain 
side)  to  the  new  home  higher  in  the  village.  Here 
many  hands  quickly  set  in  order  the  furniture,  pack 
away  the  clothing,  and  prepare  the  bridal  bed. 

At  this  point  we  withdrew  for  lunch  interval,  and 
when  we  returned  there  had  been  a  feast,  and  the  bride 
was  already  decked  for  the  church.  We  were  again 
elevated  through  the  crowd,  and  somehow  inserted  in 

200 


A  Wedding 


the  bride's  tiny  inner  chamber.  It  was  absolutely 
packed  with  women,  and  there  was  much  talking  and 
laughing,  while  the  bonny  young  bride  sat  rather  over- 
come and  very  still  in  the  midst ;  for  she  would  court 
bad  luck  by  moving  before  her  father  came  to  lead  her 
away.  A  wild  old  crone  had  to  reiterate  many  times 
for  our  admiration  and  her  glory  that  it  was  she  who 
had  tired  the  head  of  the  bride.  The  result  was  truly 
brilliant  and  striking  ;  completed  with  a  huge  wreath 
of  braids,  tinsels  and  flowers.  But  the  fine  regular 
features  carried  it  all  easily. 

Presently  came  in  father  and  brother  and  led  out 
the  bride  ;  and  they  and  all  the  principals,  with  a 
queue  of  bridesmaids  holding  hands  or  handkerchiefs, 
danced  several  circles  very  solemnly  in  the  village 
street,  before  following  the  indispensable  fiddler  in  a 
long  procession  up  to  the  church.  The  women  here 
are  very  handsome  and  their  dresses  most  sumptuous, 
so  that  all  these  little  processions  filtering  about  the 
village  were  delightful  to  watch. 

We  were  given  "  stalls  "  in  Church,  and  were  glad 
enough  of  their  support,  for  it  was  very  hot  and  crowded, 
and  the  service  rather  long,  as  most  of  the  Greek 
services  are. 

But  how  beautiful  in  sound — the  numerous  Htanies 
and  their  chanted  responses,  and  the  long  great-sound- 
ing prayers  !  Four  peasants  in  the  stalls  sang  in  solo 
or  in  harmonies,  taking  up  their  parts  from  the 
beckoning  of  the  priest.     I  am  told  that  much  of  the 

201 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


village  church  music  is  handed  on  orally,  and  I  do  not 
think  these  men  had  any  printed  books.  The  marriage 
service  includes  an  exchange  of  rings,  and  three  inter- 
changings  of  the  gold  and  silver  wreaths  which  the 
best  man  places  on  the  heads  of  bride  and  bridegroom. 
Finally  there  is  a  little  procession  round  inside  the 
church,  with  many  pauses  for  blessing.  Then  rice  is 
thrown,  both  in  church  and  from  the  wayside  windows 
and  stairways,  as  the  bride  is  led  home,  and  every  one 
eats  sugared  almonds.  And,  at  home,  the  newly  wed 
sit  and  receive  congratulations,  and  little  gifts  of  money 
cast  into  the  bride's  lap,  and  other  presents. 

And  then  the  untiring  people  dance  for  hours. 

It  was  then  we  came  away,  feeling  rather  sated  with 
peasants,  and  realised  we  had  no  change  of  raiment 
after  the  very  hot  and  dusty  crowd.  We  went  and  sat 
on  the  vine  terraces  over  the  sea.  The  mountains 
opposite  were  of  dim  and  tawny  velvet,  and  over  them 
presently  came  a  red  moon  in  the  dusk. 

Next  day  a  charming  bride-to-be  donned  all  her 
wedding  finery — secretly,  for  fear  of  village  mocking — 
that  I  might  sketch  her.  She  came  escorted  by  her 
betrothed  and  a  party  of  friends  and  stood  for  several 
hours.  And  the  whole  party  was  so  grieved  at  the 
idea  of  any  remuneration,  that  it  had  to  be  discreetly 
pressed  as  a  wedding-present !     Delightful  village  ! 

When  we  bade  it  farewell  in  the  late  afternoon, 
about  a  third  of  the  inhabitants  must  have  rushed  to 
shake  our  hands,  and  give  us  good  wishes. 

202 


CHAPTER  XII 

A  Second  Chapter  of  Journeys 

IT  was  at  the  end  of  January  that  E.  and  I 
adventured,  with  little  Lenne,  the  maid,  and 
a  carozza  full  of  blankets  and  provender,  to  a 
village  in  the  west.  Winter  weather  had  been  very- 
unsettled,  but  Corfu  relents  so  often  and  so  swiftly 
that  we  started  full  of  hopes.  The  village  of  Doukades 
is  about  three  hours  from  town.  (Observe,  we  cannot 
measure  by  accurate  distance  in  the  south,  so  that  to 
visit  a  friend  we  might  describe  it  a  drive  as  of  two 
and  a  half  hours,  while  we  could  tack  on  an  extra  hour 
if  we  did  not  wish  to  go.     This  is  so  convenient.) 

For  Doukades,  we  leave  the  Skripero  road  on  our 
right  where  it  turns  to  the  hills,  keeping  on  the  main 
road  to  Paleokastrizza  for  a  few  miles  further.  Dou- 
kades is  half  a  mile,  maybe,  above  the  road,  tucked  away 
under  an  eastward-facing  crag  of  Spartile  ;  and  when 
we  arrived  just  after  sunset  the  village  was  only  a  blur 
of  almond  blossom  and  wood  smoke  beneath  the  long 
garden-terraces  of  our  borrowed  house.  The  great 
wall  of  Spartile  cut  down  our  view  on  the  north  ;  there 
were  a  few  touches  of  Straits  in  the  distance,  and  over 
them  the  long  snows  of  Epiros,  dun  in  the  twilight, 
with  a  last  finger  of  the  sun  among  their  clouds. 

The    garden    terraces    were    heavy    with    oranges, 

203 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


citrons  and  mandarins.  It  was  a  dear  little  house. 
It  was  very  cold.  There  was  a  fireplace  {that  we  had 
ascertained  before  coming)  ;  but  it  smoked  from  first 
to  last,  most  bitterly. 

Next  morning  we  tied  ourselves  up  firmly  and  in  a 
great  gale  strove  up  the  steep  old  footway  that  leads 
over  the  mountains  to  Ali  Matadis  and  district.  We 
crawled  about  on  top,  meeting  a  few  wind-bent  peasants, 
the  women  in  curious  open-necked  shifts  and  open- 
fronted  coats.  We  went  back  and  peeped  over  the 
giant  cliffs  that  crest  the  range  westward  to  the  sea — 
a  sheer  perpendicular  wall,  scored  with  deep  chimneys 
and  eaten  into  caves  at  the  base. 

Later  in  the  day  we  climbed  along  below  the  cliffs, 
by  the  veriest  goat-tracks,  and  managed  to  reach  one 
or  two  of  these  caves.  Some  of  them  are  fitted  with 
hurdles,  and  are  reputed  to  shelter  as  many  as  i,ooo 
sheep.  In  one  were  marks  of  a  fire,  and  a  tin  can  caught 
the  roof-drippings.  We  saw  no  other  furniture.  But 
E.  in  her  wanderings  met  a  wild  shepherd  who  told 
her  he  lived  there.  A  highly  unclean  person,  one 
would  gather,  though  it  sounds  all  right  at  a  distance. 

We  had  been  full  of  plans  of  what  we  would  do  from 
Doukades,  but  the  rain  quenched  them  with  steady 
persistence.  But  our  second  day  appeared  shining 
gloriously,  and  with  painting  kit  and  no  precautions 
we  set  forth  for  Paleokastrizza,  four  or  five  miles  down 
the  main  road  below.  It  was  a  jewel  of  a  morning, 
and  we  came  upon  that  sea  all  foaming,  malachite  green 

204 


Doukades 

in  its  rocky  bays,  with  cliff  shadows  on  it  of  deep 
amethyst.  We  stood  for  long  entranced,  and  little 
Lenne,  whom  we  could  not  leave  alone  in  a  strange 
village,  was  quite  excited,  and  cast  stones  down  into 
the  milky  spurts  against  the  rocks.  The  road  is  of  very 
wonderful  beauty  all  the  way. 

When  we  reached  the  monastery  it  began  to  rain 
very  gently ;  while  we  essayed  to  lunch  off  eggs  that 
were  not  hard-boiled  it  rained  harder  ;  so  after  an 
hour  or  two  of  patience  in  the  long  guest  chamber  over 
the  waves  we  decided  to  start  homewards  in  Corfu's 
special  semi-tropical  rain.  Lenne  was  in  her  festa 
clothes,  the  new  blue  velvet  jacket  that  had  been  her 
joy  since  Christmas.  However,  she  just  took  off  one 
of  her  numerous  thick  cotton  skirts  and  wrapped  it 
over  her  head  ;  and  when  the  sun  came  out  with  an 
exasperating  smile  about  three-quarters  of  an  hour 
after,  she  was  drier  than  we  in  our  sodden  tweeds. 

Then  we  sat  indoors  for  days  while  it  roared  with 
rain.  When  there  was  a  lull,  we  sallied  out  and  got 
wet,  and  returned  again  to  the  smoky  fire  ;  and  on 
two  days  I  managed  to  seize  some  pleasant  hours  of 
sketching  alone  at  Paleokastrizza.  But  we  had  waited 
till  the  utmost  limit  of  holiday  ere  the  day  arrived  for 
which  we  were  hoping — for  which,  in  fact,  we  had 
come  to  Doukades. 

It  was  on  February  7th,  and  a  very  perfect  day,  that 
we  set  out  for  Castleangelo.  We  had  meant  to  do 
this  expedition  in  state,  i.e.,  with  Spiro  and  donkeys ; 

205 


An   Artist  in  Corfu 


but  after  the  long  storm  every  inhabitant  and  every 
donkey  was  busy  at  the  olive  gathering,  so  perforce  we 
went  alone  (Lenne  had  made  friends  in  the  village, 
and  was  chaperoned  in  our  absence  by  Marina,  the  wife 
of  Spiro). 

We  went  for  a  mile  or  two  down  the  Paleokastrizza 
road  :  the  grey-shaded  road,  where  wild  figures  evolve 
silent  as  nature-spirits  from  wayside  olives,  and  vast 
fragments  of  rock  lie  scattered  from  the  great  cliffs 
that  wall  the  northern  heavens.  Then  up  to  the  right 
where  the  cliffs  bend  back,  we  cut  the  long  windings 
at  a  causeway  which  we  hoped  was  old  as  the  crusaders, 
and  slowly  and  admiringly  climbed  to  Lakones. 

On  that  blue  and  glorious  day  Lakones  was  lost  in 
almond  blossom.  It  floated  like  a  dazzling  cloud  above 
us  and  was  just  as  radiant  against  the  jade-green  bays 
and  bluer  depths  of  sea  below.  The  red-tiled  roofs 
had  scarce  a  note  to  say  through  it.  The  whole  village 
blossomed  against  the  mountain  side. 

Behind  us  our  own  mountains  of  the  south  were 
steeped  in  blue,  were  blue  as  the  sea,  and  far  over  in  the 
east  Albania  shone  with  newest  snow.  Verily  an 
entrancing  world.  We  went  straight  through  Lakones 
to  the  north,  and  passed  round  the  deep  and  shadowy 
gorge  beyond  which  hangs,  like  the  fortress  of  a  dream, 
St.  Angelo  over  the  sea.  By  a  side  road  we  came  to 
Krini,  over  against  our  fortress,  and  here  a  nasty  un- 
romantic  fact  was  intruded  on  us ;  for  Spiro  had 
assured  us  we  could  buy  provision  for  lunch  at  Krini, 

206 


Wild  Scenery 


and  unfortunately  we  had  more  than  half  believed  him. 
And  Krini,  like  the  rest  of  Corfu,  was  away  olive-picking 
with  every  available  hand,  its  sole  representatives  at 
home,  three  small  and  useless  children  !  No  shop  or 
cottage  was  open,  we  could  not  even  beg  or  steal  bread, 
and  so  fared  onward  with  unplenished  scrip. 

There  is  no  road  or  possibility  of  a  road  to  St.  Angelo. 

An  isolated  cone,  a  rocky  needle,  shoots  a  sheer 
thousand  feet  from  the  sea,  and  about  its  head  the 
walls  of  St.  Angelo  are  fast  bound  like  a  diadem.  It  is 
only  a  httle  place,  and  there  is  not  much  of  it  left, 
but  the  wonder  and  the  beauty  of  it  are  like  nothing 
else. 

From  Krini  a  steep  and  rocky  descent  leads  to  the 
narrow  neck  which  joins  the  cone  at  about  half  its 
height,  and  an  even  steeper  ascent  zig-zags  up  to  the 
crumbled  walls  far  above  in  the  blue  air.  A  donkey 
could  do  the  ascent,  a  led  horse  might  manage  the 
lower  part,  but  I  should  not  like  to  try  it  on  a  very 
windy  day. 

The  track  was  so  faded  that  we  climbed  precariously 
round  under  the  walls  to  the  seaward  face  of  the  cone 
before  we  were  sure  we  had  lost  it.  There  was  some- 
thing rather  terrible  about  the  silent  glittering  water, 
so  very  far  and  directly  below,  and  I  crawled  ignomi- 
nously  back,  while  E.  scaled  the  walls.  About  the 
entrance  on  the  landward  side  a  triple  line  of  defence 
is  vaguely  seen,  though  only  the  inmost  wall  remains. 
The  gate  of  the  second  wall  is  a  mere  postern  for  size, 

207 


An  Artist   in  Corfu 


and  on  so  steep  a  rock-stairway  that  one  wonders  what 
fanatics  dared  attempt  it. 

The  walls  literally  hang  round  the  cone,  and  within 
their  narrow  bounds  we  are  told  3,000  refugees  huddled 
for  that  terrible  siege  of  the  Turks.  Three  thousand, 
and  parched,  no  doubt,  and  scorched  by  the  fierce 
August  sun. 

Now  the  buildings  are  crumbled  to  earth  again, 
and  grass  clothes  all  the  rocky  slopes,  and  an  old  woman 
with  a  few  sheep  moves  slowly  across,  come  up  to  tend 
the  lamp  of  a  tiny  peasant  chapel  which  rises  over  the 
ruins  of  Franks  and  Venetians. 

It  is  said  that  the  place  takes  its  name  from  Michael 
the  bastard.  Despot  of  Epiros,  and  thorn  in  the  flesh 
of  the  western  masters  of  Greece  in  the  years  of  the 
fourth  Crusade.  Let  us  certainly  have  Michael  the 
Despot  here  too, — the  place  is  saturated  with  story  and 
romance. 

There  is  no  wall  on  the  north.  We  crawled  to  the 
edge  and  put  our  heads  over  and  looked  long  at  the  big 
slow  rollers  coming  in  along  the  shore,  so  very  far  below 
that  they  were  no  larger  than  ripples,  and  sent  us  up 
only  a  sleepy  murmur.  A  triumphant  spear  of  rock 
comes  through  here  above  all  the  building.  It  is  on 
the  north-west  corner,  and  in  it  have  been  laid — 
what  great  chiefs  and  stern  fighters  ?  There  some 
were  cradled,  for  the  stone  is  cut,  coffined  in  the  form 
of  a  man,  there,  and  by  the  chapel  too. 

We  found  some  shade,  and  lunched  off  hard-boiled 

208 


Incidents 

eggs  and  chocolate,  thanks  to  our  confidence 
in  Spiro.  However,  it  was  not  such  a  "  revolting 
mixture "  as  Stevenson's  bologna  sausage,  chocolate 
and  brandy ;  also  I  think  it  was  raining  on  Stevenson,* 
while  we  had  just  to  sit  and  marvel  at  the  beauty  of 
the  world.  The  sea  was  of  unimaginable  blue  and 
silver,  and  everything  at  its  springtime  best. 

Very  reluctantly  we  came  away,  skirting  Krini  by  a 
sylvan  byway.  And  about  three  o'clock  fell  voraciously 
on  bread  and  cheese  at  Lakones.  We  ate  in  the  street ; 
it  was  cleaner  than  the  shop.  But  they  brought  us 
a  table  and  stools,  and  then  a  tablecloth,  and  by  my 
faith,  napkins,  too  !  And  the  assembled  parliament 
into  which  we  had  walked  all  melted  away  to  a  civil 
distance  from  our  meal. 

A  young  man  wished  to  attend  us  as  interpreter, 
for  he  had  been  in  San  Francisco  for  some  years.  He 
knew  remarkably  httle  American,  though  he  had  been 
in  a  restaurant  business.  He  had  saved  up  to  return 
and  see  his  old  parents,  found  he  could  not  remain, 
and  was  eager  to  escape  again.  "  Such  a  little  country 
here,  and  not  gentlemen ;  in  America,  all  gentlemen, 
is  it  not  ?  "  There  was  the  constant  tragedy  of  the 
half-developed  ! 

Spiro  took  us  one  day  to  an  election  for  demarch 
(district  mayor)  at  Skripero — a  lovely  walk  through 
olives.  The  village  was  packed  with  voters,  for  it  was 
an  important   centre.     I    hastily   sketched   one   very 

*  Travels  with  a  Donigy. 

209  P 


An   Artist  in  Corfu 


ragged  gentleman,  and  considerable  discussion  took 
place  in  the  crowd  as  to  whether  I  had  overpaid  my 
model  or  whether  he  ought  not  to  have  demanded  15 
drachmae  (12s.  6d.)  for  his  few  minutes'  posing. 

Every  man  in  Greece  has  both  municipal  and  par- 
liamentary suffrage.  The  country  also  enjoys  single- 
chamber  government.     And  still  it  is  not  Utopian. 

We  left  Doukades  in  pouring  rain.  Little  lakes  by 
the  wayside  were  extended  to  swamps,  and  the  whole 
country  streamed.  But  we  had  achieved  S.  Angelo, 
and  nothing  else  mattered. 

Many  pleasant  wanderings  we  had  about  the  island 
on  Sundays  and  holidays,  on  foot  or  on  bicycles ;  among 
remote  and  curly  hill  villages,  or  to  any  place  indulging 
in  a  special  festa  or  procession. 

On  Easter  Monday  the  village  of  Viro  takes  its  banners 
and  ikon  down  to  Cressida,  and  embarks  in  a  procession 
of  boats  for  a  pilgrimage  to  Pontikonisi :  very  pretty 
to  watch.  On  the  festa  of  San  Giovanni,  Gastouri 
goes  in  early  morning  to  the  little  chapel  in  the  woods 
down  the  Benizza  road.  The  priests  in  their  vestments, 
the  big  crimson  banners  and  ikons  are  the  central 
objects  in  these  processions,  and  sometimes  the  singing 
is  very  pleasant. 

A  very  interesting  service  is  the  Good  Friday  evening 
procession  of  the  burial  (this  is  national,  of  course, 
not  local).  About  eight  o'clock  we  were  guided  to 
the  village  church  by  candle-light,  and  waited  only  an 
hour  while  the  service  was  finishing.     Inside,  the  church 

210 


ALMOND     BLOSSOM. 


Expeditions 


was  packed  full,  with  men  in  the  nave,  and  women  in 
the  porches.  We  were  given  long  candles  to  hold, 
children  carried  smaller,  according  to  size,  but  every 
one  bore  a  Hght,  and  the  rows  of  peasants  inside  were 
brilliantly  lit  up. 

Presently  a  tall  crucifix  was  carried  out,  and  the  bier 
all  lit  with  candles.  The  old  priest  carried  the  book 
of  the  Gospel  in  front,  and  the  choirmen  came  singing. 
Behind  them  streamed  out  all  the  congregation  and 
followed  up  the  cobbled  alleys  of  the  village,  the  candles 
making  a  fine  strange  light  among  the  dark  houses. 
Then  we  came  to  the  upper  church,  where  there  were 
more  prayers,  but  not  for  long,  and  finally  we  watched 
the  procession  winding  up  among  the  olives  to  the  chapel 
of  St.  Michaele,  the  candles  blending  with  the  fireflies 
among  the  trees. 

One  day  we  drove  across  by  many  hills  and  villages 
towards  Hermones.  In  the  Val  di  Ropa  we  put  up  the 
horses,  and  lunched  in  a  garden  of  beautiful  neglected 
rose-trees.  Then  we  went  afoot  through  some  miles 
of  olive  wood  vaguely  tracked,  and  down  to  a  miniature 
beach  where  the  sand  burnt  our  passing  feet,  and  steeply 
up  again  to  the  Httle  monastery  of  Myrtiotyssis.  It  is 
far  remoter  than  Paleokastrizza,  and  though  without 
the  commanding  and  wonderful  situation  of  the  latter 
it  is  very  beautiful ;  a  little  cluster  of  old  buildings  and 
walled  gardens  nested  above  the  sea  among  the  olives. 

We  lost  ourselves  in  the  woods,  coming  back.  It  was 
a  very  pleasant  pilgrimage.    When  we  returned  to  the 

211  p  2 


An   Artist  in   Corfu 


rose  garden  we  found  its  owner  had  unexpectedly- 
arrived  from  town.  And  the  awkward  part  of  it  was 
that  our  intrusion  had  not  been  arranged  for,  as  we 
thought,  and  neither  our  large  party  nor  the  horses 
had  any  right  to  their  agreeable  quarters.  The  owner 
was  very  good.  He  rose  to  the  occasion  and  heaped 
many  lovely  flowers  on  our  confusion.  It  was  rather 
a  painful  mistake,  though,  to  make  with  a  mere  ac- 
quaintance. 

The  drive  to  Pelleka  is  one  that  most  visitors  to  Corfu 
achieve,  for  the  way  is  beautiful,  and  from  the  crag-top 
over  the  village  ("  conveniently  reached  by  a  carriage 
road  ")  there  is  a  wonderfully  representative  view  over 
the  island.  Peleka  is  on  a  conspicuous  and  narrow  hill 
not  far  from  the  wonderful  west  coast.  One  over- 
looks its  peaks  and  crags,  its  tiny  bays  and  bold  curves, 
far  below  through  the  olives,  while  eastward  the  whole 
middle  reach  of  the  island,  from  Spartile  to  tiny 
Kyria  Ki  and  our  mountains  in  the  south,  is  spread 
below  us ;  there  are  rolling  hills  crowned  with  villages ; 
the  bay,  the  town,  and  at  our  feet  the  Val  di 
Ropa. 

Being  a  show  place,  a  German  tourist  will  be  found 
on  the  topmost  crag,  and  six  small  but  insistent  children 
will  beg.  But  our  German  lent  us  matches  for  our 
spirit  lamp,  and  the  children  were  only  gently  clam- 
orous. And  over  the  Straits  it  was  so  light  and  sunny 
that  a  rainbow  could  not  have  shown  fairer  colour. 
So  we  make  no  complaint  of  Pelleka. 

212 


Last  Days 


The  time  came  when  the  last  days  in  Corfu  were 
numbered,  and  every  hour  treasured. 

On  one  of  these  last  days  we  arose  early,  drove  into 
town,  and  set  out  in  a  little  sailing  boat  for  Kasoppa 
in  the  north. 

It  is  supposed  that  Kasoppa  may  have  been  the  capital 
of  Alcinous ;  it  is  known  that  Nero  danced  before  an 
altar  there,  on  his  way  to  Greece,  and  in  later  days  the 
shrine  of  Our  Lady  of  Kasoppa  was  a  favourite  with 
homeward  faring  Crusaders.     So  we  went  to  see  it. 

It  was  a  glorious  morning,  the  sunny  world  all 
mirrored  about  us  in  the  Straits.  Our  men  had  to 
row  for  hours  across  the  bay,  but  when  we  reached  the 
Straits  proper  we  met  a  stiff  breeze  and  by  many  long 
tacks  made  small  progress.  The  sea  was  of  most 
splendid  ultramarine  and  white,  but  we  began  to  doubt 
our  ever  attaining  Kasoppa.  However,  by  two  o'clock 
we  were  put  ashore  in  the  veriest  gem  of  a  bay.  Fifty 
yards  of  narrow  gravel,  finished  by  grey  rocks  and 
encircled  by  meadow,  olive  shadowed  glades  knee-deep 
in  flowers,  wonderful  even  for  Corfu.  The  lovely 
pink  hawkweed  and  its  golden  fellow,  with  a  deep  rose- 
coloured  pink,  were  responsible  for  the  floods  and  waves 
of  alternating  rose  and  gold.  They  literally  hid  the 
grass.  But  the  blue  campanula,  small  purple  larkspur, 
tall  fair  lupin  and  many  other  flowers  were  only  less 
abundant.  All  these  against  the  deep  blue  of  the 
ruffled  sea — unforgettably  lovely  and  of  the  ancient 
world. 

213 


An  Artist  in  Corfu 


We  lunched  and  lingered,  and  then  went  north  for 
about  a  mile  to  rejoin  our  boat  at  Kasoppa. 

This  is  at  the  north-east  corner  of  the  island,  com- 
manding the  entrance  to  the  Straits.  All  that  is  left 
of  the  ancient  capital  now  is  a  tiny  sea-port  hamlet, 
a  church  of  the  usual  village  type,  but  guarded  with 
high  walls,  and  on  a  low  flat  hill  to  the  north  the 
remains  of  a  vast  fortified  enclosure,  of  which  only  the 
broken  shell  of  a  gatehouse,  the  strong  line  of  the  walls, 
and  a  few  fragments  of  wall-towers  are  still  standing. 
Inside  are  fields  of  corn  and  vegetables,  and  in  the 
middle,  what  appears  to  be  an  ancient  threshing  floor. 

Our  boat  danced  us  quickly  back  into  the  Straits, 
and  as  there  were  of  course  friends  to  be  visited  on  the 
way,  we  had  a  very  pleasant  pause  at  Kouloura.  This 
is  a  charming  old  fortified  house  just  a  few  yards  above 
the  waves,  on  a  rocky  point  from  which  the  land  runs 
steeply  up.  Cascades  of  geraniums  fell  from  walls  to 
waves,  and  the  landing  is  at  a  most  beautiful  little 
circular  basin,  a  tiny  natural  harbour,  at  the  very  gate. 
A  handful  of  fishing-boats  lay  there,  but  all  the  village 
is  safely  inland,  a  steep  mile  or  two  from  the  shore. 
The  old  part  of  the  house  is  most  solidly  vaulted,  and 
has  four  round  corner  turrets ;  but  later  safer  years 
have  added  verandahed  rooms  to  catch  the  breezes  and 
the  vistas  of  the  Straits.     Altogether  a  charming  place. 

A  wonderful  twilight  was  over  sea  and  twinkling 
town  as  we  came  across  the  bay,  and  as  the  breeze  held 
fresh  we  were  ashore  by  ten  o'clock. 

214 


Last  Days 


This  is  the  end. 

My  last  journey  in  Corfu,  from  house  to  steamer, 
was  rather  typical  of  the  island's  ways.  For  neither 
baggage  cart  nor  carrozza  turned  up,  though  we  had 
allowed  hours'  margin  to  both.  Finally  the  baggage 
was  got  off,  just  in  time.  We,  heavily  laden,  at  last 
toiled  in  great  heat  and  anxiety  to  the  village, 
fortunately  caught  a  stray  carriage  and  so  caught  the 
boat.  We  heard  casually  by  the  way  that  the  carozza 
ordered  had  cast  a  wheel  on  its  way. 

Blessed  benighted  little  Corfu.  It  is  only  twelve 
hours  from  Brindisi ;  fifty-six  from  London  by  the 
mail :  yet  most  of  its  inhabitants  have  never  seen  a 
train.  May  it  ever  be  preserved  from  casinos  and  their 
clans,  a  haunt  for  those  who  love  natural  beauty,  and 
the  peace  it  gives. 


The   End. 


215 


// 


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14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below, 
or  on  the  date  to  which  renewed.  Renewals  only: 

Tel.  No.  642-3405 
Renewals  may  be  made  4  days  prior  to  date  due. 
Renewed  books  are  subjea  to  immediate  recall. 


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